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rae-g · 3 years

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Dire Need of a Change: Spring 1 - Life's Better with Joja

The past month has been a whirlwind of events. Quitting your job, packing up or selling most of your belongings (not that there were a ton to begin with), and saying goodbye to the few friends you have made since you moved to the city. But here you were, suitcase in one hand, bus ticket in the other.

“Pelican Town, it is, I guess.” You didn’t sound too confident, but you also knew you had passed the point of no return. You scanned in the ticket, threw your suitcase into the overhead compartment, then took your seat. While you mostly saw your grandpa while you were a child, you were the only grand-kid that kept in contact beyond birthdays and holidays. The two of you were constantly sending gifts back and forth to each other; a mixture of fresh produce and odd knickknacks. It broke your heart when he passed, but even then you never expected him to leave the entire farm to you.

It’s been years since he died, and you had no clue what kind of condition the farm would be in once you got there. Nor did you have any clue how to get it back in shape! You spent every summer with your grandpa on the farm, but that didn't exactly mean you knew how to properly use a hoe, or what seeds grew in which season. You just hoped that some information was retained over the years.

With a heavy sigh, and a quick swig of your cola, you buckled yourself in. “Pelican Town… Here I come?”

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You had a brief but pleasant introduction with Mayor Lewis, and the local carpenter, Robin. They seemed sweet and excited to have a new resident/farmer in the area. While it was a quick introduction, you had a feeling that if they were any indication of the types of folk who live in the town, then this move has already been for the better. Not that you were exactly the largest fan of people in general, but at least they weren't the usual jerks you find in the city. They left you with some basic tools, a few seeds, and a friendly farewell. Just like that, you were immediately thrown into your new life as a farmer.

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“Can it literally be any hotter? Ugh. And everything huuuurts.” You wipe the sweat off of your brow and rub your aching arms. You were filthy, sweaty, and in pain, but the first few seeds from your crops were in the ground, and watered. You were already beginning to regret your decision. Sure, working for Joja made you miserable, but at least you weren’t miserable AND in pain. Speaking of, Lewis did mention there was a Joja Mart in town, and given how empty your fridge was, a quick trip to grab some groceries would probably be a good decision while you still have at least some energy.

As you left your new residence, and headed into town, you were a bit overwhelmed by how bright and colorful everything was. You had become so accustomed to the unassuming dull gray of Zuzu City. There were flowers and animals everywhere, and everyone seemed to have a small smile on their face as they wandered around town. It was so drastically different from the city, where everyone carried their head low and rushed to where they needed to go. It wasn’t hard to find the Joja Mart given how much it stood out from everything else in the town; like this giant glob of grey in a field of flowers. You walked in and was immediately greeted with the filtered, yet stale air; the low hum of the fridges; and this empty, depressing, feeling.

“Home sweet home…” You murmur under your breath as you walk in. Most Joja Marts are laid out the same, or have a reversed floor plan. After a few moments to get your barrings, you grab a hand cart and pack it up with snacks, some cheap beer, and head over to the freezers. There was a guy, maybe about your age, wearing the infamous Joja blue. He was restocking the freezers, and looked just about as happy as you did when you worked at the main office.

“Excuse me.” You said, wandering up to the worker. He looked over slightly, barely acknowledging your existence, as he continued working. “Do you guys carry frozen pizzas here? I don’t see any on the shelf.” The worker turned away from you, and started fishing through some boxes. You raised your eyebrow, and was about to ask again when he spoke.

“Cheese, Pepperoni, or Combo?”

“Oh. Uh. Two Pepperonis would be great. Thanks.”

He handed you the square boxes, then went back to stocking without another word. You threw them into your cart and walked up to the register. Guess not everybody in the town is a Robin or a Lewis.

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“Well… That will at least get me by until I can get the stove looked at.” You threw the groceries into the pantry and mini fridge, and microwaved a bowl of mac and cheese. It was creeping up to 5pm, which meant Happy Hour! Or hopefully. Lewis had mentioned the saloon in town would be a good way to meet a lot of the people who lived in town, and honestly you could go for a nice mug right now. Something to wear away the edges from the stress of today. You finished your (pathetic) meal, showered, and headed out.

The music was lively, and everything had a warm glow to it. It seemed like 5:30 was when people began filling the seats, chatting with old friends, and gossiping about recent events. You took the far seat next to the fireplace and sipped on your beer. Everyone was already so close and tight knit; maybe coming here wasn’t the best idea. You knew you were going to feel like an outsider for a while, you just didn’t realize how much of an outsider you truly were. Some of these people have roots tracing back generations. They grew up with each other, knew everyone’s likes and dislikes, and even some dirty little secrets. You chugged back your drink and signaled for another round.

After finishing your second drink, you glanced behind you to see someone who looked as outcast as you were. After a moment, you recognized the dead-pan, un-caring look on their face, it was the guy from Joja Mart. You smirked. You knew that look well. You waved over the bartender and ordered another.

You spun around on the bar stool and faced the guy. “Remember, ‘Life’s Better with Joja’.” You said sarcastically, while offering the beer. He looked at you like you were a purple beast with twelve horns and three eyes, but then shrugged and accepted the beer. He looked at the label and gave a brief “Not bad” look, before taking a swig. “The name is _______, by the way.”

“Shane.”

That was the majority of your evening, with very little conversation between the two of you. A night spent by sipping on beers until it was difficult to walk straight. You nodded goodbye to Shane, and stumbled out of the door. Luckily the town was small enough where you could just walk everywhere. You collapsed on your bed, and the first night in Pelican Town came to an end.

#Stardew Valley #Shane x Reader / Player #Slow Burn #Slow Build #Slow Romance #Depression #Alcohol Abuse #Anxiety #Dire Need of a Change

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aly-kurta · 3 years

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I wanted to do this since a long time .... I'll upload infos about my HxH oc!

Friendly reminder that I'll lovely accept advices and constructive criticism! Just do not spread random hate. <3 Creating characters should be fun, not something people should insult each other for!

CW: mentions of violence and family loss.

Imagine having a serious oc but the only decent drawing you have is one where they are embarassed.

Okay, let's start this.

BIOLOGICAL INFO

Name: Lewis

Meaning of name: "Illustrious warrior"

Gender: Female

Age: 18 years old

Date of Birth: 27th January (Aquarius vibes biatch)

Place of Birth: Lukso, Kurta clan (don't worry there's a reason for her survival)

Height: 1,57 cm

Weight: 51 kg

Blood type: 0-

Hair: wavy and dark brown. Shorter behind and longer on the sides.

Eyes: brown. her eye shape is sharp, giving her almost all the time a judging and serious look.

Skin: pale, there are a few white scars on her body due some fights.

Body: thanks to the training her father made her pass throught in order to be capable to protect herself, Lewis has an athletic and kind of muscular body. Sometimes it's difficult for her to keep up fighting and training due an illness concerning her legs' bones.

OCCUPATION + PERSONALITY + CLOTHES

Occupation: Blacklist hunter. She's willing to accept assignments from wealthy families (for example, Nostrade's family), but the quest, in order to be accepted, can not surpass boundaries set up by Lewis herself.

Personality: at first glance, Lewis can come off as a sarcastic but overall serious and cold brat. Due her being cautious, random friends and chit chats are a big "no", she will low her standars if the she finds someone intersting and cultured. In fact, for her, culture and intelligence count more than everything else. Her realistic, harsh irony and coldness may soften if someone forms a strong bond with her (but if you think they will be safe from her scarcasm, oh boy, you're so wrong). Slowly, her enthusiastic and curious side will come off. Small warning: joke about her height and you'll get lovely beaten up.

Likes: books, learning, smart people, cats, traveling, fighting.

Hates: ignorant people, loud noises, seeing children and innocent people suffer, killing without any particular reason.

Clothes: total black style, so it's easier for her to not be seen in the dark and during the night. She wears a sleeveless jumper, with shorts and high boots. She also wears her father's gloves in his memory and a neckacle with a blue pendant in hyaline quartz.

NEN AND FIGHTING SKILLS

Nen type: transmuter. Her hatsu consists in transmuting her aura in heat, elevating the temperature until the creation of flames ( red flames are the "weakest", the strongest one are blue -purple flames, said to reach 1400 degrees on the Celsius scale). In order to protect herself from the flames, she wraps a little bit of aura around herself, but sometimes her skin gets burnt from her hatsu, thats why she counts more on a "speed" strategy more than a "strenght" one.

When her scarlet eyes are active, she become a Specialist (I deduced every Kurta does and not just Kurapika, since the scarlet eyes are a really particular thing, what do you guys think?). When in this state, her flames and explosione created by them are way more intense and her aura gets wider. But obviously she has an harsh condition: in order to use it she has to use her own body as fuel (so that's why she has to eat regularly, not allowed to be weak).

When the scarlet eyes aren't active, her nen uses her energy and, when in En, external resources in an area of 9 meters as fuel (so if you feel yourself or the air around you becoming cold, you better keep constant distance from her).

Fighting style (hand-to-hand): her father trained her to muay thai.

TRIVIA

Her father taught her how to play the violin, but she does it rarely due painful memories;

She admires Gon's desire to meet his father because she understand that feeling, she would do anything to meet her mother or remember more and more about her;

She is inspired to Lewis Carroll, the writer of "Alice in Wonderland". Why? Originally she was a BSD and Carroll is my favourite writer together with Tolkien;

She often scolds Kurapika because he is careless about himself;

Lewis has met Hisoka before. She was in search for money and ended up fighting with him.

Why did I make her a Kurta? Six years ago, when I created her (and I didn't watch HxH) I added this thing about her eyes having a red hue when angry due her ability. Then I watched HxH and was like "wtf Lewis";

The meaning behind the name "Lewis" helped me defining her personality;

I lowkey ship her with Kurapika because of their personalities becoming even more complex when together. Their story is a whole mess because they believe that by becoming a couple, they'd just destroy each other.

BACKSTORY

Lewis was born in Lukso, along with her beloved twin brother. Her family was watched with doubt and oddity by the other members of her clan due both her parents being Hunters.

Her mother, a Virus Hunter, passed away when Lewis and her brother were five years old, so their father, a Blacklist Hunter, took the responsibility to teach them about self-defense, the outside world and to always have a goal in life. So the twins grew up knowing how to fight and the desire of making their life complete.

After her 13th birthday, Lewis decided to take the Hunter Exam (because she wanted it? Well yes, but she also aimed at making her father proud). Succeding the exam to exit the clan and greeting her people, she started her journey to get her Hunter License.

Once she got the license, after a long road, Lewis was ready to return to her forest with pride and victorious and show her clan what she was worth. So you can imagine how she felt when during her return trip she heard about the slaughter of the "demonic Kurta clan".

So pained that she couldn't even manage to return to her home, Lewis strayed for two years and half on the streets, living off the duties of a Blacklist Hunter, and then affording a decent house in Yorknew city.

What do I do now, she asked herself. Her desire to make the Troupe pay for their genocide marched together with her will to follow her father and her brother's desire: help the weake, live life to the fullest and become the best version of your soul.

That's how Lewis lives, the grief and rage battling against the desire to go on and live for herself. What will win this fight?

YORKNEW ARK

So time passes on and Lewis decides to try and get the eyes of her clan that will be exposed to the Auction.

How can she achieve this little goal? Of course she had money, but not that much to afford her purchase.

That's how she ended up meeting two little boys who came there for a videogame called "Greed Island" and a man. Their names were Killua, Gon and Leorio.

Lewis' first plan was just to do something similar to a business contract, you help me and I help you. But her planning mind didn't take in consideration the fact that this move would have changed her life.

When she told the three boys what she wanted to buy at the Auction, the group immediatly looked at each other, asking her what she found amusing about a pair of eyes took away from some innocent person.

"Let's call it... personal interest" she answered. Her vague response ringed a bell on Killua's mind, making him thinking she was a member of the infamous Phantom Troupe.

Gon, Killua and Leorio immediatly came up with a plan to make that misterious girl confess her identity and show them her spider tatoo. The plan was perfect and the three of them, after a week, cornered Lewis, ready to attack.

Little did they know about her being sligthly annoyed by this "betrayal".

Leorio's jaw almost dropped to the floor when Lewis' scarlet eyes came out instinctively. The kurta quickly hid her face but it was too late.

Gon was confused because... how did she survive the massacre?

Killua meditated if it was the case to rush and call Kurapika. Or was it a trick to prove false innocence?

With lots of sighs and sarcastic jokes like "yeah I'm the boss of that shitty Troupe, wanna come at our Christmas dinner this year?", the girls sat down and waited for that Kurapika everyone was talking about. It would have been better to kill the three boys and escape but she couldn't push herself to see life escaping Gon and Killua's eyes. They were kids and they didn't hurt her in any way yet... and the way their eyes shone, specially Gon's ones.

And so, she waited until a blonde boy stormed into the room in a rush.

What was even happening? Who was he? These question made her head fuzzy from all the thinking.

"You have scarlet eyes, don't you?" the boy approached her.

"And what if I do?" Lewis coldly looked at Kurapika.

Gon pointed out at Killua how the temperature lowered in the room.

"Show me your eyes" Kurapika said with a commanding tone.

"Don't play with fire, boy, or you'll get burnt"

Leorio interrupted the two of them: "he's a Kurta too don't worry!"

Kurapika scolded Leorio with an angry look just before realizing what he meant.

"Another... survivor?" he looked at Lewis "no it isn't possible..."

The two of them were shocked and couldn't even process the deed. They weren't alone?

"Let me use the Dowsing Chain on her, so I can state that it's the truth and not a mischevious trick.

Still shocked and confused, all of them made sure about the truth: Lewis was in fact a Kurta.

How will this twisted story reach its end? Lewis will decide to help Kurapika retrieve their clan's eyes. Will their opposite lifestyles and dreams go well together? Will Lewis succed to reach the "better version of her soul" and help Kurapika do so? Or maybe they'll both drown in the abyss of loneliness and self sacrifice?

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jalapeno-princess · 4 years

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Before You Go

Mark Tuan X Reader

Genre: Angst

Warning: Mentions about mental illness, depression, anxiety, insecurities

Word Count: 3.5K

Summary: When Got7 has a break during their world tour, Mark rushes back to Korea in order to return home to you. However, when he comes home to an empty apartment, he isn’t too surprised. Although he didn’t know about your condition, you were no longer acting like yourself a couple of weeks before. After reading the letter you left him, he realizes that you were suffering and he never hated himself more for not doing anything about it sooner.

A/N: Hey guys, I got inspired to rush this very sad imagine after listening to the song “Before you go” by Lewis Capaldi and I could not stop listening to it. It’s such a heartbreaking song and I remember seeing a tiktok about Got7 with that song and I actually cried. Hearing that he wrote this song about his aunt who committed suicide made my heart hurt. I’ve suffered from both depression and anxiety for quite some time and at one of the lowest points of my life, I just so happened to stumble across of the 7 most wonderful human beings and my life changed for the better. I’d be lying if I said I don’t have my bad days, but watching their videos or listening to their songs really helps uplift my spirits. I’m so sorry if you have any sort of mental disorder but I hope you know that you are so beautiful and so loved. The pain doesn’t last forever and if you ever need someone to talk to, my messages are always open! And please, don’t make someone the main source of your happiness. It isn’t someone’s responsibility to make you happy. Everyone suffers something we don’t know and the minute that person does something to upset you, it never once leaves your mind and they no longer make you happy. With that being said, read with caution and enjoy.

I fell by the wayside like everyone else I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, but I was just kidding myself Our every moment, I start to replace 'Cause now that they're gone, all I hear are the words that I needed to say

When you hurt under the surface Like troubled water running cold Well, time can heal, but this won'tSo, before you go Was there something I could've said to make your heart beat better? If only I'd have known you had a storm to weather So, before you go

Was there something I could've said to make it all stop hurting? It kills me how your mind can make you feel so worthless So, before you go

He knew it was coming whether he liked it or not. Your smile no longer reached your eyes whenever the two of you would FaceTime, your contagious laughter than he loved so much didn’t sound genuine like it used to, you would always respond with short answers to each and every one of your messages.

Mark didn’t have to see you in person to know that you weren’t yourself anymore; that you weren’t happy anymore and he hated that he didn’t realize something was wrong until it was too late. When he first walked in to your shared apartment, he didn’t think that anything was out of the ordinary. It was natural for you to not be at home.

Being a full-time college student with a full-time job took up most of your time and you’ve told him being occupied with all these responsibilities helped take your mind off of his absence. As soon as he walked in to the bedroom, he was quick to notice how empty the room was. Your vanity was cleared of all your makeup and jewelry, the table that your books and laptop occupied was empty and when he went to open your side of the closet, it was empty.

Mark didn’t know if he wasn’t responding to the fact that you were gone because he was in disbelief, because he thought this was a terrible nightmare that he was soon to wake up from or because he didn’t want to accept the fact that you actually left. It took him a few minutes to recollect his thoughts, but once he accepted that this was actually happening and that you took all of your things and moved out, he found himself sinking to his knees and let out the most heartbreaking, gut wrenching sob.

Being a KPOP idol wasn’t the most easiest job out there, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love traveling the world and getting to perform in stadiums and arenas alongside of his six best friends. Other than the rumors made about him, the mistreatment he and the rest of Got7 experienced from their company and the unnecessary hate he’d receive on a daily basis, the only other thing he hated about being an idol was having to go months without being with you; his soulmate, the love of his life, his person.

If Mark had the choice, he’d take you on tour with him. He was happiest whenever he was with you and each time he had to go on tour or travel around Asia for all the different photo shoots or reality tv shows he’d star in, he couldn’t find it in himself to completely enjoy the opportunity in its entirety. The love Mark had for you was stronger and deeper than anything in the entire world including his career.

He’d tell you time and time again that he would give up all the fame and success if it meant getting to spend every possible moment with you. You were his safe haven; his home. Every time something went wrong in his life or he felt like things weren’t going his way, he’d always run to you in search of comfort and salvation. Sure, he’d find confidants in his members and some of his family members, but nobody understood him the way you did.

Nobody knew what to say to make him feel better like you did. Nobody’s embrace and the sound of their heartbeat against his chest made him feel calm and at ease like yours did. It was in that moment of self pity that he realized, he was the reason why you left. When the two of you first met over four years ago, you were suffering from both anxiety and depression at the time.

There were days where you would get sad and even cry for no reason and sometimes you’d end up hyperventilating or feel like you weren’t able to breathe and not know the reason. From the time you were younger, you had a tendency of shutting people out of your life completely before they even got to really know you. Your parents never understood why you hardly ever had any friends, up until the day they got a call from your 8th grade counselor suggesting that you go see a therapist.

Although you hardly ever talked to anybody unless you really had to, it was hard not to hear about the countless rumors about you being mysterious and weird on top of receiving the nickname “ghost girl” because it was as if you didn’t even exist. On the fateful day you were introduced to the devastatingly handsome idol, your life changed entirely for the better.

You were interning at a hospital as a receptionist when he came storming in to the emergency room trying his best alongside of BamBam to help carry Yugyeom inside. It was in that moment that you learned the youngest boy sprained his ankle while practicing some choreography and you were quick to register him in the system and luckily the emergency room wasn’t all too crowded when the three of them arrived.

Both BamBam and Mark stayed in the waiting room for a couple of hours until BamBam decided to get some food for the two of them. When he left, Mark found himself walking over to you with the intention of getting to know you. He was too busy focusing on trying to get Yugyeom medical attention to really talk to you, but once the nurses took over, he got to admire your beauty and took the chance to see if you were interested in going on a date with him. You were extremely beautiful; there was no doubt about it.

Mark had a hard time keeping his eyes off of you and snuck some looks here and there to prevent BamBam catching on to his attraction to you, but once the younger boy was gone, he planned on making it aware that he admired how well you worked under pressure and how you did whatever you could to make sure Yugyeom was in the right hands and that he was going to be okay. In the hour that BamBam was away, Mark learned that you were currently in the process of becoming a registered nurse.

Not only were you going to school full time, but you were also a resident assistant and worked as a receptionist to help pay for medical school. You also got to learn that Mark was a KPOP idol and that he and the rest of Got7 were in your hometown for two weeks for a concert. The two of you immediately hit it off; you fell for his charm, his gentle personality and his gorgeous looks. He fell for your passion, determination, strength and your beauty was just a bonus. In both his free time and yours, you both went on multiple dates.

Since it was his first time in your hometown, you took him to places that you loved visiting and hoped that he would end up loving each and every location just as much as you did. There were a few kisses shared, whispers of interest and adoration for one another, a couple of hugs and many cuddles. You knew you should’ve told him about your mental state, but you were afraid of scaring him away before you really got to knew him.

With everyone who tried to befriend you and actually wanted to be apart of your life, you let them know right off the bat that you weren’t normal. You didn’t want to make friends with someone only for them to judge you for your mental disorders but for some reason, Mark was different. He made you laugh and smile so effortlessly. His smile sent your body in flames. For the first time in a very long time, you were genuinely happy.

A few days before they went to fly to the next country, Mark asked you to be his girlfriend. He told you that he was falling for you faster than he’d like to admit and that he’s never felt this way about anyone before. Deep down, you knew you should’ve said no. He already had so much on his plate; dealing with someone with so much baggage was not what he needed. The last thing Mark needed in his life was to become a babysitter and personal therapist to a grown women suffering from both anxiety and depression. But you couldn’t.

You were selfish. You wanted Mark just as much as he claimed to have wanted you; which is why you weren’t surprised when you found yourself saying yes while immediately smashing your lips against his. Mark informed you that dating an idol wouldn’t be easy, especially since the two of you would be in a long distance relationship; but he promised you that he would try his best to contact you as much as he could and that the two of you would plan to visit each other when time permitted you to do so.

Since Mark was the first boyfriend you’ve had, you weren’t used to the idea of a long distance relationship. You didn’t know what to expect. The idea both worried you as much as the thought of dating him excited you. There were millions of girls who adored him and he was surrounded by so many beautiful idols, actresses, models and singers. What if he realized that he could do so much better than you and that you were a mistake; a brief lapse of judgement he made because he was lonely and you were one of the only girls that weren’t throwing themselves at him?

Your conscience always tried to make you feel bad, no matter how happy you were or how good things were going in your life. Right now, Mark was the only thing keeping you going and you tried your best to push the negative thoughts to the back of your mind, but it was only natural for you to thing negatively. Mark in more or less words was the perfect boyfriend. Even if he was extremely busy, he made it a point to contact you twice a day; once he woke up and right before he went to bed.

If he had more time, he spent all of it talking to you. As much as you would prefer to see him on a daily basis, you could still feel so much love from him through computer and phone screens. When he didn’t have any schedules or when you went on vacation, you’d fly up to Korea or he’d fly down to spend time with you. The more you got to spend time and physically get to see your boyfriend, everything seemed to be okay.

You were so focused on being in the moment with Mark that you didn’t have time to be sad. However, when he would leave, or when you’d have to return back home, you could physically feel your chest get heavy. It was your fault; you made him the only reason for your happiness. You and Mark hardly ever got in to arguments but when you did, it got really bad for you mentally.

Each and every time you’d fight, you would always blame yourself even if it wasn’t even your fault. Mark had a tendency to get jealous and in the first few months of your relationship, you became aware that Mark was extremely protective over you. You didn’t understand where his insecurities came from; if anything you were the one who should be envious and insecure.

You’d see the way he flirted with other idols every now and then. He was also very flirtatious with his fans and you knew it was all apart of the idol image, but that didn’t make you feel any better. As much as you wanted to voice how you felt, you were afraid that it would spiral in to a conversation you weren’t ready for. You were afraid that he would find out about your illness and look at you in a different light. You were afraid that he would finally come to the realization that he deserved so much better than you.

You were afraid of losing him.

Dating Mark had its ups and downs, but you loved him with every fiber of your being. He was your safe haven; your favorite hiding place; an escape from the real world and you knew you’d be okay as long as you had him in your life. Things were going very good for the two of you for the last few years. After graduating from college over two years ago, you applied for a working visa in order to move to Korea and be able to see Mark more often.

He asked you to move in with him before you could even arrive and you were honestly over the moon. Time and time again, you’d find yourself daydreaming about getting to go to sleep in his arms and waking up next to him. He was the definition of a gentleman and made sure to remind you just how much he loved you and thought the world of you on a daily basis. On multiple occasions, Mark would bring up marriage and how he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with you.

There was nothing more you wanted in this world than to marry Mark; the only person that meant anything to you; the only source of your happiness, but you were afraid that you’d ruin your relationship somewhere down the line like you ruined everything else. During your entire relationship, you did your best in hiding your mental illnesses; you’d suffer alone and cry whenever he wasn’t around. You would go and see a therapist while he was working; you really wanted your relationship with Mark to last and in order to do so, you had to change yourself to be someone Mark would be proud to date.

Unfortunately, there was nothing that could help you. When Got7 went on tour again, this time it would be for an entire year. You didn’t think you would be able to live without him for an entire year. Sure, he’d have some breaks and return back to Korea every now and then and you could visit whatever country they were in, but it just wasn’t enough. While he was away, the voices only grew louder and so did your insecurities and negative thoughts.

You’re too fucked up to be loved.

You’re crazy for thinking a guy like Mark could ever like you.

He can do so much better than you.

He’s probably cheating on you.

You’re only holding him back from so many things.

If he knew how insane you really were, he’d leave in an instant.

You tried your best to ignore the voices; tried to pretend as if there was nothing wrong with you. Tried to pretend that you could maybe one day actually become normal and be able to live without a care in the world, but that kind of life could never be yours. Mark was a blessing; an angel on earth; a beautiful distraction and you would be selfish if you allowed to let this relationship continue.

The thought of no longer having Mark in your life felt like a stab in the chest. A life without Mark was not one worth living, but you couldn’t keep doing this. You were only hurting him the longer you dated him for. While he was gone, you decided you would pack your bags and leave him completely. It took a few weeks to come to that decision, you were so stubborn and you knew you’d regret it one day, but you wanted to leave him before he could leave you.

Since you were still so in love with him and would probably always be in love with him, you kept in contact with him and did your best to make sure that he didn’t sense that something was wrong. He would call you and tell you all about his day, how much fun the concert was and that he missed you, but he never asked you how you were doing. He always sent you pictures, but he no longer asked for any. You felt as if he was slowly falling out of love with you. He didn’t have to say it and even if he was great with reaching out to you, it felt like you were more like a friend to him rather than his girlfriend.

When you moved out completely and made your way back home, you cried for what felt like hours. If being away from him was already so upsetting, what more now that you were running away from your relationship; from him? You thought it was what was best for him; but it was slowly killing you. There were so many times where you wanted to tell him the truth.

For all you knew, he could be extremely understanding and would want to do whatever he could to help you; yet the chance of him laughing in your face were even higher. Mark had problems of his own and was very vocal about anything that was bothering him. Shouldn’t he have felt as if something was wrong since you never complained once about anything?

You were a licensed nurse, studying to get your bachelor’s degree in a country you weren’t familiar with. You were all alone when Mark was in and out of the country. Wouldn’t he think that there was a chance you were struggling and having a hard time? Even if you didn’t say anything, did he not have the smallest amount of common sense to put two and two together? As the days went by, you no longer felt butterflies swarm in your tummy when you looked at him.

The thought of him no longer made you smile like an idiot. He wasn’t the same man who told you silly hospital puns to get your attention all those years ago. He no longer made you happy and that’s how you knew it was the end. When the only source of your happiness no longer made you happy, there was no point in staying with him anymore. Mark was in a fetal position, crying on the floor for almost the entire day.

Where did you go? Why did you leave? You were just talking to him a few days ago, how long were you planning on leaving for? He wanted to call you to get the answers of his many questions. Did you no longer love him? Did you grow tired of the distance? Were you okay?

When his sobs slowly settled down, he stood up with the tiny amount of energy in his body and went on a search for his phone. He didn’t know what he was going to say to you; but he just needed to hear your voice. He wanted you to tell him something happened with your family and you had to go be with them but that you’d come back later. In that moment of self pity, your last phone call came back like a slap in the face. At the time, Mark didn’t think your words meant anything but now that you were gone, they made so much sense and he hated it. Hated himself.

“You know if one day, we’re no longer together, I want you to know that I will always love and support you. You will always be my person Mark, even if you find someone else and I’m no longer yours.”

Why didn’t he realize the distance earlier? There was obviously something different about the way you would talk and the tone of your voice. It no longer had that sweet, bubbly intonation it used to have. You also never contacted him as much as you used to. Whenever he told you he loved you and he missed you, he felt as if you said it just to say it. Before he could continue searching for his phone, it was then that he saw the tiny little post-it note on his pillow and once he finished reading it, he released an ear piercing scream of frustration.

“Dear Mark,

I’m sorry, but I just can’t do this anymore. I’m not happy, I haven’t been for a long time. I don’t thing I ever was genuinely happy once in my life until I met you and honestly the only moments I experienced happiness were when I was with you. Unfortunately, nothing made me happy anymore; including you. I felt as if I was preventing you from reaching your fullest potential. I wish you nothing but health and success. I’m going to miss you so much Mark. Thank you for showing me so much love and happiness for the time being. You’re an amazing person Mark and I meant what I said when I told you I’d love you forever. Please don’t come looking for me. It’s for the best.

Sincerely, y/n.”

Would we be better off by now If I'd have let my walls come down? Maybe, I guess we'll never know You know, you know

Before you go Was there something I could've said to make your heart beat better? If only I'd have known you had a storm to weather So, before you go Was there something I could've said to make it all stop hurting? It kills me how your mind can make you feel so worthless So, before you go

#got7 imagines #got7 #got7 mark #mark tuan #mark tuan imagines #got7 angst

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punsandfuturekingsmen-archive · 3 years

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Zory, demonic attorney at law, at your service. At least that's what the business card says. "I've seen this before and it rarely ends pretty. Hanahaki is an unfortunately specific yet aggravatingly ambiguous in nature. So many loopholes possible, but so ill-defined as to make those secret exit clauses lose effectiveness in many cases. Still, I'll do what I can here." The demon's tail flicks through the air, brows furrowing as he stares over a sheet of parachment. (Technopathic-games 1/?)

The demon continues, pacing. "The wording of the curse upon casting implies prior knowledge of its nature, so it might benefit you to write down the specifics of what you knew of Hanahaki when it was cast. That will narrow down the possible loopholes here." He glances at Arthur, ruby eyes glittering, "Don't fret, though, this is pro bono work. All free. Frivolous fae casting curses carelessly... pisses me off, so it'll be nice to stick it to 'em."

“So, based on prior research and the particularities of the magic involving this curse, the other member of the second party ensnared in this little curse is one Lewis Pepper, hereto referred to as Party (L).”

“According to most Hanahaki curses, Party (L) is an object of affection, and the curse will be effective for the duration until such time that Party (A), yourself in this case, divulges their amorous affections to Party (L), though the means of this is usually not specified. In your case, it’s entwined with a Silencing curse, therefore opening up the means of divulgence to any reasonable means that does not involve vocalization.”

“Hanahaki curses are generally infamous for being specific towards amorous feelings, though there are cases in which there are exceptions (i.e. Robinson v. Wade, in which the “feelings” in question were platonic in nature and the curse was resolved by means of vocally expressing platonic affection for a close friend, or Egil, C. v. Egil, A, in which the unspoken feelings in question were that of broken familial bonds.)”

“Based on the letter of the magic, though, it only stipulates that you must admit "feelings," not which feelings, thereby opening up the possibility that the “feelings” in question could be literally anything, as long as they have gone unspoken.”

“Additionally, another possible factor for exploitation is the lack of specification surrounding other factors of the proposed confession, including range, duration, target, and most importantly, recipient comprehension and/or acceptance. Based on the magic present, ‘A’ Lewis is required, but ‘WHICH’ Lewis may not actually matter, nor whether or not he actually understands the message being conveyed.”

“Therefore, given this ABSOLUTE MESS of a magical contract, it would be arguably possible for you to chuck a wadded-up paper ball at a Lewis that is not from your home reality that you will likely never meet again that contains the message confessing some dubious, unspoken emotion written entirely in an esoteric cipher, and the book it for the hills.”

“Other alternatives include: A) Telling a Lewis you are afraid of losing him as a friend, satisfying the “unspoken feelings” clause. B)Expressing your emotions through interpretive dance, or even C) flashing the confession on a piece of paper in front of his face for less than a second, not actually giving him the chance to actually read it, then burning the paper then and there. For an extra measure it could be in a language he does not understand.”

Zory’s grin turns mischievous. “In any case, given all this evidence, it’s entirely possible to rules-lawyer your way through the specifics of the curse and thus weasel your way out of it. There are a number of possibilities, but based on my analysis, there are a few glaring loopholes:”

“A) You do not have to confess to your reality variant of Lewis, B)You do not specifically have to admit LOVE, as any unspoken emotion can likely satisfy the conditions, C) The person you confess to does not necessarily have to understand your message, allowing you to confess while also fully obfuscating its meaning.” Zory preens, feeling clever. “I didn’t go through 400 years of demon law school for nothing.”

Arthur tried really really hard not to let his eyes glaze over as this-- demon person, was speaking. It was hard, with how fast they slipped into legal jargon. It wasn’t exactly difficult to understand, but it was a bit mind-numbing to be hit with it all at once and to listen to it. His brain kept wanting to abandon ship and think about other things. Now they were quoting cases and other things and some of the words were incomprehensible with his attention flicking in and out. It was just-- so much to take in at once.

Why couldn’t lawyers talk in layman’s terms? Wasn't the point of understanding the way laws and contracts were worded so they could translate for people who didn’t? So they could get what was being asked of them exactly?

Well. Maybe it was a demon thing to want to stay a bit irksome even when helping?

Arthur sighed and tapped at his tablet. “I don’t know exactly how it works, but this magic doesn’t always explicitly have to be said to work a certain way. It’s not the end of the world if I do something. It’s not like he doesn’t already know.” He rubbed at his shoulder. “Thank you for offering your help. But I think I’m just gonna suck it up.”

He’d been considering signing it, in the hopes that it wouldn’t be understood. But at the same time? He did know already. So what was the point besides just-- not wanting it to be awkward? It’s not like he wouldn’t understand if he told him it was a curse. A long time ago when he didn’t even like Arthur he’d let him kiss his hand for a different magic spell. He’d understand. He was a a good guy like that.

#Anonymous #answering things #ic #Arthur speaks #technopathic-games #honestly given the syntax and grammar of the M!A #i'm not sure if english is the first language of the anon #so i don't want to use that against them when they're clearly just here to cause a bit of mischief #long post #M!A: Flower Power

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mykravlife · 3 years

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What’s your safety colour?

Develop your situational awareness using the cooper colour code

A Lesson In Situational Awareness

She stood in front of the class going through the traumatic details…

“I was walking to my car” she started.

“That’s when he grabbed me from behind and tried to drag me into the trees. I was so scared.”

She was referring to an incident that I had read about a few weeks ago in the paper and now she was in my class.

The news article said that she was coming out of the arena and as she approached her car was grabbed by an unknown assailant, who tried to carry her into the woods.

“What were you doing when he grabbed you?” I asked

“Oh. I was texting a friend.”

In our Krav Maga classes we refer to this as condition white. Fortunately she put up a fight and was able to escape unharmed.

She was lucky…

…because just as easily the situation could have turned out different.

And more importantly, just a little bit of situational awareness could have prevented it from happening in the first place.

I often talk to my classes about the importance of situational awareness, which we define simply as knowing what’s going on around you.

It’s obvious that she was distracted by her cell phone and wasn’t paying attention to her environment.

It’s easy for us to point at her and say that she shouldn’t have been on her phone.

But the reality is that in our normal everyday lives things like that don’t happen to us. They also rarely happen to people we know!

Situational awareness however is more than just looking out for bad guys. In her situation, it could have just as easily of been a car that hit her.

That’s why I place a heavy emphasis on teaching situational awareness in every Women’s Self Defence Seminar and Krav Maga class that I conduct.

The Cooper Colour Code

“If violent crime is to be curbed, it is only the intended victim who can do it. The felon does not fear the police, and he fears neither judge nor jury. Therefore what he must be taught to fear is his victim” — Jeff Cooper

I want to start off by saying that you don’t have good situational awareness or bad situational awareness. I believe that your situational awareness is either trained or untrained.

The tool that I use to teach situational awareness to my students is called the Cooper Colour Code.

Retired Marine Lt. Col. Jeff Cooper stated that the most important tool you can have to help you survive an attack isn’t a weapon or your martial arts skills, but what he called your combat mindset.

To help develop this mindset, in the 1970’s he introduced the Colour Code which describes the different psychological conditions, or states of mind, that a person has in any given situation.

The Cooper Colour Code is made up of 4 awareness levels, each represented by a different colour.

Condition White is the first condition and is best described as generally being unaware of what’s going on around you. Basically you’re not paying attention.

Condition Yellow, the second condition, you now sense that there could be potential danger around. You begin to actively scan your environment to try and identify any potential threats.

Condition Orange is the third condition and during this level of awareness you have locked on to a potential threat. You are now formulating an action plan to put in place if needed.

Condition Red is the last level. When your awareness level has elevated to red you are now actively engaged with the threat. You are also executing the plans you formulated in Condition Orange.

There’s also another condition level that has since been adopted by the Marines that was not part of the original Colour Code. Condition Black.

Condition Black is used to describe someone who has become immobilised by panic or overwhelmed by fear.

Before I go into the specifics of the Colours and how to use them, we need to define two concepts that we’re going to be using.

The first concept is physiological response. This refers to what’s happening to your body as a threat presents itself.

Essentially it’s the activation of the fight or flight response, also known as the acute stress response.

The acute stress response is activated by the sudden release of hormones into the body in preparation to fight for our lives or to run away.

This response is characterised by physical changes such as increased heart rate, blood pressure, and breathing.

The second concept that we need to be aware of is what’s called our psychological response.

This is what happens to us mentally. As the stress of the situation we are in climbs different things happen to us mentally.

Now, let’s look at each of the conditions individually.

Condition White

“The difference between being a victim and a survivor is often a low level of situational awareness.” — Barry Eisler

When you’re in condition white you’re in a state where you’re unprepared and not ready, physically or mentally, for an event.

That event could be an attack from an assailant or it could be getting run into by a guy on a bike.

The point is that you’re unprepared. If you live in Condition White while your out and about in public then you’re more likely to become a victim.

Bad guys generally choose people who are not paying attention. This makes it easier for them to victimise you because you’re less likely to react and they’re more likely to get away with it.

When you’re in condition white you have low psychological awareness, meaning that you’re not focused on what’s going on around you.

You also will have low physiological arousal levels, which means that your fight or flight response hasn’t been activated. You’re petty relaxed.

Now, we need to spend time in condition white. Having a constantly elevated alertness level is taxing on us mentally and can lead to mental fatigue.

So when do we go into condition white?

Generally when you’re at home. Anywhere else and you should be in the next condition.

Condition Yellow

“I think it’s always important to be vigilant of what you’re doing and aware of your surroundings.” — Leona Lewis

Condition yellow is simply being in a state of awareness of what’s around us. We need to be actively searching and scanning the environment for possible threats.

We should be in condition yellow whenever we’re out, at work, at school, or at church, etc.

So what am I looking for when I’m scanning…

Basically anything that can become a potential threat. Things like people acting aggressively or suspiciously, speeding cars, off leash dogs, etc.

When you’re in condition yellow you will have a moderate psychological awareness level and moderate physiological arousal level.

Condition Orange

“Your mind-set is your primary weapon.” — Jeff Cooper

Once you have identified or locked onto a potential threat you have now moved into condition orange.

For example imagine that you’re out for a nice walk.

Whenever you go out, you should automatically be in condition yellow.

In condition yellow you’ll be casually scanning your environment. You’re looking for things that are out of the ordinary, making sure to take note of anything that could become a potential threat.

Ahead you see a dog that’s off leash and running in your direction. At this point you should move yourself into condition orange.

You have identified and locked in on the threat. Now to do the important work that characterises this condition.

You formulate a safety plan.

When confronted with a threat you essentially have one of three choices to make.

Run. Hide. Fight.

This is the time to make the decision and the plan on how to execute it. You don’t want to be doing that once the attack is under way.

You may decide that if the dog gets to a certain point in front of you, you’ll run away, or maybe you identified some shelter that you can safely hide in, or maybe you mentally prepare to fight the canine.

It doesn’t matter what the decision is, as long as one has been made.

When you’re in condition orange understand your heart rate will become slightly elevated as you’ll be in a higher state of physiological arousal.

But more important to realise is that because you’re focused on the dog, you won’t be focused on other things. You’ll have a lower state of psychological awareness than you did than when you were in condition yellow.

Condition Red

“The only acceptable response to the threat of lethal violence is immediate and savage counterattack. If you resist, you just may get killed. If you don’t resist you almost certainly will get killed. It is a tough choice, but there is only one right answer.” — Jeff Cooper

My hope is that you never have to go into condition red. That your situational awareness and instincts are developed enough that you avoided the danger long before it ever had a chance to become a threat to you.

Going into red means that you’re now in the fight. You’re at the point where you have no choice but to execute one of the plans you made back in condition orange.

You have a very high degree of physiological arousal as hormones race through your body.

Your awareness level sink even lower as you become solely focused on the threat. You no longer know what’s going on around you.

You’re now fighting for your life.

Hopefully, everything goes according to plan and you get out of there safely. It will take a good while for the adrenaline to leave your system and you may become jittery. But at least your safe.

As you can see, the Cooper Colour Code can be a useful tool to keep yourself safe. At the very least remember to be in Condition Yellow every time you leave the house and decide what you will do in different situations before they happen.

#krav maga #self defense #cooper colour code #situational awareness #martialarts

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letterboxd · 3 years

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Under the Stars.

On the UK release of Harry Macqueen’s tender Supernova, the writer-director talks to Ella Kemp about timeless love stories, his favorite screen lovers and working with best buds Colin Firth and Stanley Tucci.

Love is patient and love is kind in Supernova, Harry Macqueen’s tender story of marriage, memory and maps. It’s an autumnal study of a mature, rock-solid love and the unfair illness that threatens to undo it. We’ve seen stories about gay lovers that end in tragedy before, but this one is different: a sense of security and trust infuses the final holiday of husbands Sam and Tusker, as they come to terms with Tusker’s recent diagnosis of early-onset dementia.

Colin Firth and Stanley Tucci play the couple—a pairing written in the stars, since the actors have been best friends for twenty years—who are traveling England in an RV, visiting places and people they have loved. Sam is a pianist, Tusker a star-gazing novelist. Together, they mine emotions that manifest in everyday care rather than grand, theatrical gestures. Julien describes Supernova as “a marvel of tiny moments that feel so real they register like bullet wounds,” while Lola feels the destabilizing power of these lovers. “I love love,” she writes, “but love is painful, beautiful, heart wrenching, frightening and forever.”

Supernova is the second feature from Macqueen as a writer and director after 2015’s Hinterland, in which he starred opposite Lori Campbell in a contemporary, rural tale of a companionship that spans decades. A London-trained actor, he made his debut in the under-seen Richard Linklater film, Me and Orson Welles. On Supernova, however, Macqueen remains firmly behind the camera.

The filmmaker opened up about the stars in the sky, the ones on our screens, intimacy, pride and more for his Life in Film questionnaire.

Harry Macqueen on location with Colin Firth for ‘Supernova’.

What do you think the connection is between stars—the celestial kind—and lovers? Harry Macqueen: Historically, we’ve always found the cosmos to be both perplexing and inspiring. I suppose there’s a kind of infinite beauty in space that is definitely related to love, and especially for a character like Tusker, who is contemplating his mortality. He’s looking up at the stars and thinking about what they mean, and what he means in that context, and it seemed like something that would be a natural thing to do if you were in that situation.

In terms of the other kind of stars—your incredible actors Colin Firth and Stanley Tucci—how did you find the right people to bring Sam and Tusker’s love to life? I think that what they do in the film is very surprising, in a way that’s beautiful and delicate. But it was also one of the easiest casting processes of any film, ever. Stanley was the first person we sent the script to and he read it very quickly and responded to it in the way that you hope that people will. We were really interested in one of the characters being not British—we felt there was something potentially quite stuffy about having two Brits bumbling around the countryside, so another culture would add a bit of a different energy to it.

Stanley loved the script and we got on really well. I really wanted, hopefully, to get two actors who knew each other and had a shared history for these intimate roles. And he said, “I don’t know whether you know, but my best mate is Colin, and I could get the script to him.” I obviously said yes and he said, “Okay, well, I already have, and he loves it and he wants to meet you.” So it was all a bit of a dream!

Let’s talk about the inception of the script. Supernova is obviously a story about love, but it’s about illness and death and mortality and all of these things, which feels significant in terms of it being a gay love story. A lot of queer love stories in cinema are tragic, but also are often very specifically reckless and youthful, and don’t really linger on this later chapter in life. How early did you know, then, that this film would be about two men? If you’re talking about early-onset dementia, you’re naturally talking about people in their fifties or sixties, so I knew that I was always going to tell a story about romantic love of some kind in that part of your life. I had done a lot of research around that, and I realized I had never worked with a same-sex couple. All the couples and families that I’d worked with, the central relationship had been a heterosexual one. So my initial reaction was to write that story, but then I countered that really quickly and wanted to challenge why that was my initial inkling.

I just thought, I’m writing about really universal themes—love and death and life and trust and companionship—and it seems to me that no one sexual orientation or gender has a monopoly on those things.

And you’re right, LGBTQ+ cinema over the years, quite often for very, very important and understandable reasons, has been about that period of flux, transitioning or coming out, the moment of becoming your true self at a certain time of life, when you’re usually quite young. And that is quite fraught, frantic and a bit grimy sometimes. So I was aware that there was a gap in cinema to present a love story about two people of the same sex who were in this stage of life. That romantic, mature love we don’t talk about very often.

The film also aspires to be the type of story in this type of community that I hope that I live in, even if perhaps I don’t—to tell a story in which the sexuality of the characters isn’t mentioned. It’s just accepted, embraced and loved. The sexuality of the characters doesn’t impact the story or inform anything, it’s just their lived experience in the world. I’m really proud that we did that, because I genuinely think, in its own tiny way, it’s a revelation.

Colin Firth and Stanley Tucci navigate love and illness in the Lake District.

This film, materially and aesthetically, is beautiful. The landscapes, the actors, Sam and Tusker’s knitwear. How did you navigate the balance between creating this very cozy world that also understands heartbreak and decay as potent things? What I want to try and do in films generally is wrap an audience up in an intimate world between two people, and hopefully allow the audience to fall in love with those people. That shared history they have meant that all of these things felt quite organic. They’ve got some money, but they’re in a camper van, they’re not loaded. They’re reasonably creatively successful, but they’re not famous, necessarily. They’re just two guys trying to live under quite extreme conditions.

The intimacy in the film is really, really important to me. What degree of romantic intimacy these characters have, how you film that, and how you plonk an audience in there. Because you don’t want to make a dirge—the film is life-affirming because they love each other so much, and because of that, it’s also devastating.

So that informs every choice you make stylistically. It’s quiet, and it’s patient, and it felt like exactly the right way to tell this story, to not intrude on this beautiful relationship, to not impose anything on it, to be very simple, really—which, as I’m sure you know, it’s not simple!

I know that kind of filmmaking is not to everyone’s taste, that avoidance of melodrama, that lightness of touch. I find it beautiful, but others probably don’t.

Gordon Warnecke and Daniel Day-Lewis in ‘My Beautiful Laundrette’ (1985).

Now, a few Life in Film questions. Who are your favorite gay lovers on-screen? Carol and Therese in Carol, Russell and Glen in Weekend, Marianne and Héloïse in Portrait of a Lady on Fire, Johnny and Omar in My Beautiful Laundrette.

What is your favorite timeless love story? This is so difficult! Maybe Alice in the Cities, Wendy and Lucy or the Before... trilogy.

What is the best film about pride, the definition of which is very much open to interpretation? Jiro Dreams of Sushi—a brilliant film about having pride in your craft.

What should we watch after Supernova? I tend to be a bit controversial and say the couple from Amour by Michael Haneke. Or maybe Life of Brian, or a Studio Ghibli film—but definitely not Grave of the Fireflies.

What was the film that made you want to be a filmmaker? I’m not certain there is a specific one, but there are films you encounter all the time that make you want to be a filmmaker all over again. The two films that made me think it might actually be possible were Old Joy and Katalin Varga—they inspired me before I had any budget or experience. But it could also be any Yasujirō Ozu film, or Taste of Cherry by Abbas Kiarostami. All very inspiring in their own way.

Related content

Queer Love and Desire: a list by the Criterion Channel

The Pride of Sundance: 400 LGBTQ+ films to watch this June, curated by the Sundance Film Festival

101 Must-See Movies for Lesbians: Jenni Olson’s list (including Carol)

Follow Ella on Letterboxd

‘Supernova’ is in UK theaters now, and available to stream on Hulu, or rent/buy from other VOD services in the US.

#harry macqueen #supernova #queer love #queer film #queer cinema #pride #pride 2021 #gay film #colin firth #stanley tucci #early-onset dementia #road movie #letterboxd

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tinyshe · 3 years

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still worth reading ... more now than ever:

The Kraken Unleashed: Are We Ready to Fight the Beast?

Father Richard Heilman January 14, 2015

“And I saw a beast rising out of the sea, having ten horns and seven heads; and on its horns were ten diadems, and on its heads were blasphemous names. And the beast that I saw was like a leopard, its feet were like a bear’s, and its mouth was like a lion’s mouth. And the dragon gave it his power and his throne and great authority. One of its heads seemed to have received a death-blow, but its mortal wound had been healed. In amazement the whole earth followed the beast. They worshiped the dragon, for he had given his authority to the beast, and they worshiped the beast, saying, “Who is like the beast, and who can fight against it? – Revelation 13:1-10

“In the 2010 film, Clash of the Titans, there is a scene in which Zeus, angry with the humans, is persuaded by Hades to visit vengeance upon the mortals in the form of the Kraken, a giant monster from the depths of the sea. The visual of this great evil being unleashed is something to behold:

“If this scene is evocative, perhaps it is because it’s familiar. Like a Kraken released, we have a colossal problem in our world today. There are few who are not stunned by the growing specter of evil; a darkness more profound and spreading more quickly across the globe than any civilized human being could have ever imagined. Many of those I speak with have admitted that they now abstain completely from watching the news: “It’s just too much,” they say. “It’s just so horrifying!”

“For the past two years I have been confiding to close friends my own growing sense that something is happening, that something unholy is stirring. I have spoken with others who have admitted the same suspicion. The way I have tried to describe it in the past is like the rumblings felt just before a volcano explodes.

“Now, I find myself wondering if the eruption is upon us.

“Who could ever conceive of atrocities like those we are seeing executed in the name of religion? Where once we might see coverage of a tragic conflict far away, we now face an evil that is not confined to some distant corner of the planet. With the always-on, near-instant spread of information in our digital age, your next door neighbor can be radicalized from the comfort of their living room.

“What we are facing is, first and foremost, a form of spiritual warfare. In a time where violence is rampant and the innocent are threatened, it is true that we must be ready to physically engage the malefactors. But if we deny the spiritual nature of this surge of evil we are facing, we will have no hope of victory.

“When confronted with atrocity, the immediate reaction of most people is, “What can we do to stop it?” Yes! That is the exact question we need to be asking. Summoning us to courage, St. Augustine challenges us to do battle: “Hope has two beautiful daughters: their names are anger and courage. Anger that things are the way they are. Courage to make them the way they ought to be.”

“But to begin to answer the question of what we can do, we must first properly assess where we are. What are our capabilities? How is our strength? What is the state of our conditioning? Without this kind of brutal honesty, we are likely to flounder rather than fight.

“Jesus warned, “Beware that your hearts do not become drowsy from carousing and drunkenness and the anxieties of daily life, and that day catch you by surprise like a trap. For that day will assault everyone who lives on the face of the earth” (Luke 21:34-35).

“And yet isn’t that exactly what has become of us? Consider this sobering analysis of our present condition from columnist Jeffrey Kuhner at the Washington Times:

“For the past 50 years, every major institution has been captured by the radical secular left. The media, Hollywood, TV, universities, public schools, theater, the arts, literature — they relentlessly promote the false gods of sexual hedonism and radical individualism. Conservatives have ceded the culture to the enemy. Tens of millions of unborn babies have been slaughtered; illegitimacy rates have soared; divorce has skyrocketed; pornography is rampant; drug use has exploded; sexually transmitted diseases such as AIDS have killed millions; birth control is a way of life; sex outside of wedlock has become the norm; countless children have been permanently damaged — their innocence lost forever — because of the proliferation of broken homes; and sodomy and homosexuality are celebrated openly. America has become the new Babylon.

“This cultural assessment is bleak. And I believe that underlying it all is a deeper evil, a more ancient and intractable error which gives rise to all the rest. Many have pointed to “Modernism” as the heresy of our times. Modernism, while it takes many forms, is basically a break or rejection of our past in favor of all things new. And, while it seems evident that our Church is fully infected with the heresy of Modernism, I believe that it, too, is a symptom of this more fundamental threat.

“What am I referring to? Something that impacts the very nature of human existence and the opportunity for our salvation. Lacking an official name, I call this monster, “Stealth Arianism.” Students of history know that the Arian heresy – the worst crisis in the Church before our present age – was rooted in the belief that Jesus Christ was merely a created being, not equal to God the Father. Stealth Arianism follows the same fatal error, but with a twist: while the Arians of the fourth century openly denied Christ’s divinity, today‘s Arians will profess Jesus as God, and yet through their actions deny it. In other words, they don’t even know they are heretics. Many even believe that they are doing God’s work in their attempts to elevate Christ’s humanity at the cost of His divinity.

“You see, once we diminish the identity of Christ as the Son of God, we are left to view Him as simply a historical figure that was a nice guy, a respectable teacher and a good example for how we are to live. Religion is then reduced to a nice organization that does nice things for people as we seek a kind of psychotherapy for self-actualization. And this is not only not what He came to give us, but it’s something He made sure to leave no room for.

In his Christological examination, [easyazon_link asin=”0060652926″ locale=”US” new_window=”default” nofollow=”default” tag=”onep073-20″]Mere Christianity[/easyazon_link], C.S. Lewis makes the case plain:

“I am trying here to prevent anyone saying the really foolish thing that people often say about Him: “I’m ready to accept Jesus as a great moral teacher, but I don’t accept His claim to be God.” That is the one thing we must not say. A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic—on a level with the man who says he is a poached egg—or else he would be the Devil of Hell. You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God: or else a madman or something worse. You can shut Him up for a fool, you can spit at Him and kill Him as a demon; or you can fall at His feet and call Him Lord and God. But let us not come with any patronising nonsense about His being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to.

“Over the past 50 years, the Stealth Arians have done everything within their power to remove from our lived experience of Catholicism anything that would point to the divinity of Christ, and the supernatural quality of our faith. Everything has been stripped from our churches – sacred art, sacred architecture, sacred music, and the sacred elements of the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass – and we are left in the barren desert of the banal. It is no wonder many Catholics think nothing of approaching the Most Holy Eucharist dressed in a t-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops, and grabbing the host like they’re reaching into a bag of chips. As Flannery O’Connor said, “If it’s a symbol, to hell with it.” It’s more surprising that these individuals even bother to attend Mass at all.

“Moreover, the Stealth Arians have deliberately chosen to keep their teachings muddled, ambiguous and elusive in an effort to increase “pastoral sensitivity” as the highest of all values, which keeps people feeling good about themselves just the way they are – though never challenged to strive for sainthood! Of course, when people like the way their church makes them feel about themselves, that keeps the money flowing into the collection basket. But whether confused and uncertain, or simply spiritually blind for lack of true pastoral care, the faithful who have been abandoned by their spiritual leaders are prone to be conformed to the world and its prince, a murderer and liar from the beginning.

“St. John Chrysostom exhorts, “Let us be filled with confidence, and let us discard everything so as to be able to meet this onslaught. Christ has equipped us with weapons more splendid than gold, more resistant than steel, weapons more fiery than any flame and lighter than the slightest breeze … These are weapons of a totally new kind, for they have been forged for a previously unheard-of type of combat. I, who am a mere man, find myself called upon to deal blows to demons; I, who am clothed in flesh, find myself at war with incorporeal powers.”

“That sounds noble for St. John, but about for us? Are we really prepared to such a fight? Just when we need mighty spiritual warriors for these dangerous times, Satan has spent the past 50 years diminishing the Church’s legions to little more than a bunch of Girl Scouts. Now that we are left in our weakened state, Satan seems to be calling out to deal the last blow, “Release the Kraken!”

“Indeed, what can we do?

“St. Paul gives us the answer in his epistle to the Ephesians (6:10-18):

“Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his power. Put on the whole armor of God, so that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. For our struggle is not against enemies of blood and flesh, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers of this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. Therefore take up the whole armor of God, so that you may be able to withstand on that evil day, and having done everything, to stand firm. Stand therefore, and fasten the belt of truth around your waist, and put on the breastplate of righteousness. As shoes for your feet put on whatever will make you ready to proclaim the gospel of peace. With all of these, take the shield of faith, with which you will be able to quench all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.

“Pray in the Spirit at all times in every prayer and supplication. To that end keep alert and always persevere in supplication for all the saints.

Originally published on September 18, 2014.

Father Richard Heilman

Fr. Richard M. Heilman is a priest of the Diocese of Madison, Wisconsin, and the Wisconsin State Chaplain for the Knights of Columbus. He is a regular guest host on Relevant Radio’s The Inner Life, and is the founder of the Knights of Divine Mercy, which is an apostolate for Catholic men’s faith formation..

He is also he founder of the Ladies of Divine Mercy, which is an apostolate for Catholic women’s faith formation. He is the author of the Church Militant Field Manual and the Roman Catholic Man website, which are both dedicated to helping Catholics understand and train for their role in the mission of combating evil and rescuing the souls of our loved ones who have lost the precious gift of faith.

#catholic #fr richard heilman #be awake #be aware #be prepared #get right with God #spiritual battle #pray #are you ready to fight the beast

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himbowelsh · 4 years

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winnix/ amnesia?

a little fall of meme can hardly hurt me now ( no longer accepting )

His footsteps echo through the long corridor. They ring out discordant somehow, as though Dick’s practical Oxfords were not made for polished marble floors. To be fair, they weren’t. This place --- this swaggering mansion, with it’s high ceilings and plated glass windows, modern fixings and furniture dating back to the last century --- is not made for him. In the lap of luxury, Dick is an outsider. Never has that fact felt so painfully obvious.

The monochrome walls leer at him. Dick squirms in his own skin. Were he not accustomed by now to impossible situations, he might not be able to keep going, off-key footsteps carrying him all the way to the room at the end of the hall. The heavy oak door is closed, but he has seen behind it plenty of times before; he knows just where the dresser is, the position of the bed, the heavy curtains and cluttered desk by the window.

The difference those times was that he was invited. With Nix beside him, leading him in, he never felt like a stranger.

Now, what else could he be called?

He raps firmly on the door — because even if Nix always professed a “personal disdain for knocking”, that was only ever an excuse to not do it himself — and waits. After too long a moment, he hears it. Behind the door, someone shifts; a bed frame creaks; and over the silence, a rough voice calls, “Come in.”

Dick forces a deep breath, and opens the door.

The room is dark, curtains drawn — the better for his head, the doctors explained. It’s sweltering outside, but Nix’s bedroom, like the entire Nixon estate, is air conditioned. His bedclothes are rumpled. A set of silk slippers sit on the floor, ignored. Instead of the usual chaos, Nix’s heavy oak desk is clear; it’s only decorations are a bottle of white pills, and a rubber ice pack, long since lost its chill. The doctors left fresh bandages, some ointment, and more equipment for their next visit… but until then, the patient’s been left to recover alone.

That’s what drove Dick in here, against doctor’s orders: the thought of Nix sitting alone in the dark, aching and confused. When he was a child, Dick would fall prey to the inevitable winter flus and summer fevers, like all active kids; his mother never left his side for a moment. Nix’s mother isn’t even in the country, and his father… isn’t the ‘vigil by a bedside’ sort.

Whatever Dick expects to find in this lonely room, he still ends up surprised.

Nix is awake and sitting up — against doctor’s orders, certainly — with a glass of water in one hand and a fistful of blanket in the other. His posture is casual, almost bored. He stirs in bed just enough to swallow without choking, then sits up a bit straighter, cradling the glass like a finger full of scotch. It’s impossible not to notice the stark white bandage twined around his head, the exhaustion lining his face, or the dullness in his eyes… but besides that, he looks remarkably Nix-like. Exactly the opposite of what Dick expected, and so familiar that it hurts.

Lew takes one look at him, up and down, before settling back in bed. “Let me guess — executor of the will?”

Dick blinks, ignoring how the words twist in his gut. “No.”

“Sorry. You just… look like the sort of guy who’d show up a few decades too early.” He waves his hand, gaze meandering out the window as though there were a movie playing out in the front lawn, far more interesting than anything right in front of him. “Or a few days. Who knows? Head injuries — tricky things.”

Dick remembers the plink of a bullet bouncing off a metal helmet in Holland, the way his friend fell; he remembers the tiny bruise on Lew’s forehead, the way his eyes were so dark and so wide as he looked up at him. “I’m alright! Am I alright?”

“Quit looking at me like that,” Lew says out loud, jarring Dick from his thoughts like a lightning strike. “If you’re not a lawyer, and you’re not a doctor…” No Nixon-employed physician shows up empty-handed, Dick supposes. “Who are you? A compassionate well-wisher?”

“You… could say that.” The words taste sour in his throat. Dick wants to vomit, swallowing back sour bile as it rises in his throat. “I do wish you well, L— Nixon. Mister… Captain Nixon.”

“Wow. Going through the whole cycle, there.” The amusement in Nix’s eyes lingers for a moment, chasing away that dull listlessness… but it returns a moment later, like pain radiating from a fresh wound. “I’m a Captain?”

Dick has to clear his throat before he can answer. “You are. I had the honor of serving beside you in Europe… through Normandy, Holland, and Bastogne.” He lets the words linger for a moment, as though they could possibly jog some shadows of memory. Nix’s face remains blank, though, brows knit and scrutinizing. If there were any flicker of recognition there, Dick would catch it; but there’s nothing at all.

“What’s your name?” Nix finally asks, in the same tone he did in OCS school, so many years ago.

“Richard Winters,” Dick answers, in that same familiar voice.

“What do your friends call you? Dick?”

You do, Dick thinks, but doesn’t say so. “Yeah.”

“Nice to meet you, Dick.” Like a balloon hit with a pin, Nix’s tone has gone suddenly flat. “Or — meet you again, I guess. Sorry I can’t offer you some hors d'oeuvres, or a nice drink…” He gestures around at the messy bed, the chaotic room. “You’ve caught me in-between dinner and supper at the moment.”

“It’s fine. I don’t drink anyway.”

“One of those? Huh,” Nix says, without a hint of judgement. The exact same wording, in the exact same tone. Dick remembers this conversation; he could cite every line as though their first meeting were yesterday, instead of lifetimes ago. However much they’ve both changed, some things have still stayed the same.

Then a shadow passes over Nix’s face, gaze wandering, and Dick is forcibly reminded that this is not the same conversation at all. “Guess I oughta know that, huh?”

“It’s okay.” He isn’t used to feeling so uneasy in Nix’s presence. Where any other day he’d find a chair and sit in it, now Dick just stands at attention, shifting his shoulders to relieve some discomfort. “You’ll remember.”

Nix holds his gaze for a long moment. His eyes are impossibly dark; one is shadowed, almost from an injury. When he fell, he hit the train tracks hard; if his head could bounce off steel, it’s not inconceivable to think he might have bruised other things on the way down.

“So, Dick,” he finally says, in a tone that’s just too casual. “Tell me… how bad is it?” When Dick’s brows shoot up, Nix just regards him, unflinching. “They say it isn’t good, but they won’t tell me exactly how bad. Given my raging headache, and the fact that I didn’t recognize my own sister…” He swallows, and his throat bobs with it. “I’m gonna guess it’s really bad. So… give it to me straight, won’t you?”

Dick hesitates, breath stalling in his chest for an agonizingly long moment. There’s no right answer; there’s no way to go from here that won’t bruise Nix even more. If the Nixon family have decided to keep him in the dark until his memory returns — if it returns, that horrible, omnipresent if — who is Dick to contradict them?

Nix’s friend, that’s who. Even if he might not remember it. If Nix didn’t trust him to give the truth, he’d never have asked.

At last, Dick heaves a sigh, lowering his head just enough to not look the other man straight in the eye. “Do you remember Normandy, Nix?”

His blank expression doesn’t change.

“Do you remember OCS? Sobel? The paratroops?” At each question, shot out like individual bullets, Nix doesn’t falter. There’s no spark of recognition, no sudden lightness of memory, and desperation clamps like a vice around Dick’s heart. “German liquor, this little Irish guy named Harry, my footlocker… the lake in Austria…”

Nothing. Nothing at all.

He didn’t really expect otherwise, but it still feels like his heart’s been torn from his chest.

“Sounds like I missed quite a party,” Nix remarks, his voice flat. He doesn’t try to meet Dick’s eyes again. “How many years?”

Dick swallows. “What’s the last thing you do remember?”

“I remember school — not Officer’s School. Little place called Yale.”

Six years, at least. “You’ve… missed a lot, Nix.”

He looks up suddenly, seizing Dick with his gaze like a hand around his throat. Dick is left helpless in the face of Lewis Nixon’s stare. “That’s what you call me, huh?” As always, his words have a way of burrowing under your skin, getting straight into your nerve and bone. “I call you Dick, and you call me Nix. How about that?”

“How about it,” Dick agrees.

“We must be pretty good friends.”

“Yeah,” Dick replies, tasting something bitter in his throat again. “We are.”

A curious resignation lingers in Nix’s eyes as he slumps back against the pillows once more. Dick doesn’t know what to make of it, but it leaves him feeling tired, and very, very alone.

“Who knows? It’s a long life. Maybe we’ll do it all again sometime.”

Nix doesn't remember, doesn’t know, and can’t imagine. A part of Dick — the part that has seen his friend’s hollow-eyed stares, watched his hand tighten more and more around the mouth of a bottle — is almost glad.

“Yeah,” he mutters, summoning a soft smile for Nix’s benefit. “You never know. Maybe we will.”

#ehhh... he'll be fine #winnix #lewis nixon #richard winters #band of brothers #my writing #boasamishipper

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the-headbop-wraith · 3 years

Text

3_38 Time Spent

They had a small delay when Vivi was trying to take the main road out of town, and she had to do a complete turn around and head back in. Arthur had tried to question her decision, but Vivi was adamant about picking up that brunch. The stacks of Styrofoam cups somehow still occupied the vans cup holders beneath the radio in the dashboard, now with the addition of fresh drinks. Likewise, the middle seat was claimed by white paper bags stuffed with hotdogs and hamburgers.

Between her bitter mutterings Vivi scoffed large bites of the procured food greedily, and neither Arthur nor Lewis ever caught what she was actually saying; probably for the best. Lewis might as well have vanished from the vans back, he was practically nonexistent over the duration of the drive. Arthur on the other hand timidly nibbled at a burger and a half, over a period of an hour. Around the time they had stopped for food, Mystery hopped seats and began to accept small bits of food from Arthur, but only when the dog had approved his companions lethargic progress with eating.

Things calmed down once they had eaten and been on the road for a few hours. The tension evaporated, Vivi stopped grumbling under her breath with the ‘what I should have done’ monologues. Vivi had a tendency to drive fast, especially when she was mad. Sometimes she forgot to signal when she changed lanes, which was kind of important while driving a large van with limited visibility. Inevitability the nighttime crawled through, and Arthur had to poke Vivi and remind her to turn the headlamps on. They were nearing the glittering edge of a town and traffic was starting to pick up.

“Vi. Hey,” Arthur mumbled. Mystery slipped to the floorboard as Arthur scooted a little closer to Vivi, but he edged back on the middle seat just a bit from her. Vivi didn’t spare him a glimpse. “You want me to drive for a while? You should rest some. You’ve gone for hours nonstop.” Arthur reached out his one hand, ready to take the wheel if Vivi decided to pop into the back.

“No.” She pushed Arthur’s hand away. “Not getting around it, we need to stop, check google maps.” Arthur turned away and coughed into the sleeve of his arm. Vivi gently pat him on the back. She looked back along the horizon of the bench seat as Lewis poked his skull up, the radiating shed of his bright hairstyle reflected along the interior walls of the van like a nightlight. The sight of it in the dreary mood of the van nearly mad her laugh. “A rest,” she said. “We have a long drive, and we’ll need to be fully charged. Sound good?”

There were no disagreements, and there was no point in hiding the flagrant obvious even if she hadn’t made a conversation over the topic just yet.

The van maneuvered into the large frost coated parking lot of the motel. They had vacancies, the price was reasonable, and the kudegra of old timey motel advertisements, refrigerated air. Not that this was a highlight of travel given the time of year, it only signified the circa from where the motel had been plucked from. Arthur jumped on paying the room fee, and soon the group was unloading the minimal of their supplies.

Light flashed across the small interior walls, the room was dated but maintained accordingly. It had standard furnishings of a bed, a vanity desk with television, and a small armchair in the corner of the room beside the door.

Arthur lingered by the open door of the room as Vivi crossed the interior, following the impressive stride of Lewis. The last to enter was Mystery, the dog gave Arthur a look and slowed his steps as he turned back to the occupied entry. “Hey, I’ll be in the room next door,” Arthur said. He adjusted the strap slung over his shoulder, and nodded toward Vivi carrying the weighted battery. “You want me to hook that up in here first?” Lewis dumped the collected bags on the bed and started poking through them.

Vivi twisted about as if struck. Despite the weight of the battery she stood where she was and began to speak, but stopped. She reconsidered eyeing Arthur carefully, then frowned slightly. “If that’s what you want, I understand,” she said. “You’re sure you’ll be fine?”

“Certifiable,” Arthur chirped. He tries to ignore the ‘casually’ disguised ghost as he went through the bags lumped on the bed. Arthur stepped through the door and kept near the wall, he shrugged his shoulders towards an open socket in the wall. “Did we get the charger?” Once again Mystery was close by his side, randomly appearing like a mist. The suddenness startled Arthur briefly.

“This it?” Lewis prompted. He pulled up the beaten plastic case from among the bag pile. Without a glance Lewis handed the case to Vivi, and continued going through the overnight bags. “Can you guys find the time to pull out clothes that need a wash? No offense, but it’s kind of been a while.”

The metal arm pinned in Arthur’s backpack clunked on the floor as Arthur knelt and deposited his bag. Vivi retrieved the charger, and set it beside the battery by the plug. “Take is easy, bud.” Arthur relocated his hand to Mystery’s head when the dog leaned into his bent leg. “Just a wall between us. I’m not goin’ nowhere.”

“Art?” Vivi inquired. Arthur made a sound in his throat as he focused on the car battery, hooking up its connectors from the open converter box.

“I stuffed all my stuff in that bag there.” Arthur paused a moment to flick his hand towards a bag Lewis slid out. “Thanks mom.”

“Don’t mention it, kiddo.” Lewis pulled free one of Arthur’s shirt, examined it, grimaced, and stuffed it back into the bag. He noticed that Vivi was staring at him, a little smirk tugging at the side of her face. Lewis slipped his sunglasses off, the embers in his eye sockets darted side to side within his skull. “What?”

Vivi opened her mouth ready to say something that must’ve struck her amusing, but she stopped and ducked her head down. “Never mind.”

“Now I’m curious,” Lewis admits. He sets the sunglasses on the bed among their supplies, and while he’s at it lines the bags up.

“That’s done,” Arthur says hastily. He checks the reading on the gauge and double checks the connectors on the battery. A dry cough digs at his throat as he hauls up his bag and stands, Arthur makes his way to the open door of the room. “Night. I’ll see you in the morning.” The door slammed shut, with Mystery’s white shape blurring through the wisp of the door crack. There was no return or argument, no knock of irritation.

“I don’t….” Vivi stares the way Arthur left for a moment. She heaves a breath and shook her head. “Never mind. It’s been a long day, and I didn’t handle it very well.” She stood from the battery’s side and moved over to the bed to sit on its edge. It wasn’t missed that Arthur hadn’t given which side his room was, but Vivi figured it wouldn’t be difficult finding the two come morning.

“It’s fair to be upset once in a while,” Lewis mentioned. “But it’s over and done now, trust me. I‘m only glad you didn‘t go after the Hirstein‘s like….” And he trailed off, hoping Vivi wouldn’t push for an elaboration. The whole situation didn’t settle well with him but he had to let it go, dwelling on it wouldn’t improve his mood, far from it. Lewis pretended to be distracted with moving the bags around, and managed to free some space for him to sit on the bed, closer to Vivi. He glanced around the walls, the decorative framed photos of scenery, before he brought his gaze back to Vivi and grinned. “But won’t you tell me? What made you smile?”

“Why do you wanna know?” Vivi chimed. She toed at the thin carpet with the side of her shoe. “Maybe you could, I don’t know, take a guess about what I was thinking?” She leaned back and pulled at one of the bags, maybe the one with the laptop. Lewis pushed it the rest of the way to her. She tried to get the zipper undone but it was pinned in the folds of the bags side.

“It’d be easier if you just told me,” Lewis said. “I’m not gonna be able to sleep tonight trying to figure out what put that smile on your face.”

Vivi frowned and raised her head, her hands continue to fight the bag. “Lewis. You are physically incapable of sleep.”

“Haha, yes, that was a joke,” Lewis muttered, smile falling. “But thank you, thank you anyway for pointing that out, ha ha.”

“I wasn’t thinking, Lew. But y’know, you make it easy to forget.” Maybe she’d just shove the bags off onto the floor. “You pretend to be human so….” Vivi paused there, and tilted her head to look at the ghost. “For me?” She leaned on her arm towards Lewis and touched the edge of his collar, the collar that bent up over his vibrant shirt vest. He came across so formal in his casual wear? It made the smile deepen in her cheeks.

Lewis watched her hand for a bit, as he mulled over the question. She already knew the answer. “What made you smile?”

Vivi silently fixed his ascot, though it couldn’t be wrinkled. It looked… odd. Even if she had never seen the distinct style once in all her life, save for maybe… maybe that one occasion when she dragged Arthur back. So much blood, a time she moved past - a time that clutched to Arthur, immovable by word or rational. “I wanted you to tell me something,” she murmured beside his shoulder. “It’s something… I’m not sure how to say.”

“What about?” Lewis reached a hand up and touched his face. He would know if he lost his illusion but it was difficult to tell if he wasn’t paying attention. He lowered his hand to Vivi’s wrist and stalled her from fumbling with his ascot. “This isn’t something serious? Something I’m… not ready for?” He recoiled his hand when Vivi flinched at his fingers. For a moment he was lost. What had it been like? What were the sensations he felt, the emotions. Lewis set his hand on his vest and patted around, seeking numbly. Where was it?

“I kind of miss it,” Vivi cooed. Gingerly, she set a hand over Lewis’ knuckles, against his chest. “I think I got conditioned pretty quick to think that something was wrong after….” She took a deep breath. “You and me. Were we…. We were a thing?”

Lewis tensed. He tightened his hand into a fist over his chest. “Y-yeah, I think,” he fumbled. “You—”

“What do you mean, you think?” Vivi raised her brow. “Didn’t you ask?”

“No,” Lewis hummed. “We, I mean, it was what you said— Why are you bringing this up now?”

Vivi stared at him for a long time, staring into the dark pits of his eye sockets. “Lewis,” she said, and it had that same tone as the first day Vivi had said his name when Lewis had been ripped away from that ancient forest that had been his haunt. “You stole my memories of a person who had meant so much to me. Has that ever occurred to you?”

Lewis was about to reply, but his excuse was old and stale, it no longer belonged. He pulled his fist back from his chest and turned over his open palm. Vivi hesitated, but withdrew her arm. “That’s why… I never told you,” Lewis spoke. “I didn’t want to scare you. I… this is hard for me. I don’t… what was I supposed to say? I didn’t exist to you.” Lewis stood off the bed and stepped away, toward one of the framed pictures. He focused on the open plains of a farm, a fence, a small grouping of deer, a tree. He could see his reflection in the plastic cover of the picture, what little visibility he offered in his distracted state. Through his shoulder he saw Vivi’s steady eyes, peering at him from the bed. “More sometimes more, then,” he whispered.

Vivi squint her eyes behind her halved glasses as she revisited the memory, and the despairingly familiar sense of void left in the memory. “More,“ she said. Lewis spun back to Vivi, his brows slanted in a quizzical fashion. “I’m pretty sure I couldn’t reject you. Ever. Is that really what you were afraid of?”

Lewis lowered his gaze, he couldn’t look her in the eye. “Rejection isn’t the thing I fear.” Though, it was a strong candidate in Lewis’ mind. Far more terrible things, hurtful things, existed and had power over him. “Words are scary. They can… never mind. Who ever plans for life?”

The room was silent, the cold night outside discouraged the late caller, from somewhere the dull drone of a heater groaned to animation with unwavering dedication. For the first time Vivi realized the air around her had gotten very warm. “But… you‘re not really sure why? Don‘t look at me like that, all smug.”

Lewis was at a loss, but he smirked anyway. Vivi was always in pursuit of the answers, but she had a habit of being ambiguous herself when it came to supplying explanation. She liked suspense and she liked saving the best for last, the finale. It was trademark Vivi’s systematic pursuit of mystery solving, or in this case the illusive lost threads.

Vivi stifles a yawn and pushes her glasses up on her face, over the hand now pressed to her eyes. “I still want to remember our old times, why we decided… you and me. Back as friends.” Lewis looked afflicted by the statement, and he shouldn’t be. Maybe Vivi didn’t know his expressions as well as she wanted to believe.

“I could try and maybe tell you a few,” Lewis offered. He reached his free hand towards her shoulder but stopped, instead he plucked up his sunglasses from the bed. “I think you and I may be in the same boat on the memory department.” He leaned away when Vivi lowered down onto the sheet covers. “Vi?”

“Mm?”

Lewis folded and unfolded his sunglasses between his palms. “When I first met you, I thought you were totally bonkers.” Vivi shook as she giggled into the blanket she hugged. “I never told you that before.”

“Oh,” she hummed, and it sounded pleasant. Distracted.

Lewis moved back from the bed and began scanning around for the bags, the ones with the clothes. “I’ll get out of you way, get started on the laundry. You’re exhausted.”

Vivi turned her head towards his face and squint an eye Lewis‘ way. “It‘s too late,” she mumbles. “Why don’t you stay for a bit? I need to do some work too, as soon as I’ve had a rest.”

Lewis hesitated. “You sure? You need more than ‘a rest.’” Vivi grumbled under her breath and turned over, pulling the side of the bed cover with her. “Take your glasses off first.” Vivi tossed her glasses onto the nearby nightstand, and pushed some of their bags aside. Lewis set a few on the floor. “You seem more than sleepy.”

“Foowee. I just need to lay my head down,” Vivi burbled, drowsy. “Wake me in an hour or something’.” Lewis sat down on the bed behind Vivi, his sunglasses joined hers on the nightstand. He turned around where he sat and raised a hand towards Vivi’s head, Vivi wasn‘t paying him any attention. “Hmm.”

“What?” Lewis drew his hand back.

“Nothing.” Vivi shook her head against the sheet spread. “Hey. What about when we first met? How did that go, it was… long ago, wasn‘t it?”

Lewis thought. Memories felt something like ripples in a pool, sometimes gentle and clear, other times a torrent of shredded slates. Or was this just his melodrama speaking? “We knew each other for a while,” he admitted. “We kinda had this rough beginning, but we promised we’d laugh about it years later.” Was it supposed to feel like rebuilding burnt bridges? That didn’t seem right.

But Vivi murmured along, “I wouldn‘t expect anything less.” Her eyes were already slipping shut. “I’m listening. I’ll listen.”

Lewis braced his arms behind him and leaned back over the bed. “Where to begin? Lemme see….” It felt oddly reminiscent of the times when he told his little sisters stories about the misadventures he had with his friends. That seemed like a forever time ago. “So, there was this girl with blue hair….”

How hard it was to revisit old childhood memories. They were not strong, possibly wounded deepest by the time spent devoted to one principle. That didn’t hurt the most, to travel back and remember youth. The grievance was resurfacing through those long ago memories, and reflecting the time spent aging with them.

The long halls receded perpetually into the dark distance. Sometimes wandering them gave him the sense of falling, of tumbling head over heels into the dark. He descended the steps gradually, there was no hurry to reach the bottom. More halls awaited, more walls extend beyond the broken ceiling that hung low, scraping at his scalp. Or was he floating? It had that same sensation of buoyancy, of unnatural suspension. He reached for a hold, one of the candelabras on the wall but it was just out of his reach.

Going backwards. Rising from the pit, his heels scratch at the rocky edge and skid back onto a solid surface. The air hung thick, musty, laced with minerals and smelling of soured copper. He felt sick suddenly, sick to the core of his being and buckled forward to heave, but nothing comes up. Breath was hard to grasp, he chocked and sputtered on the filthy air. Why had they ever come here? Why? He tries to stand, get on his feet and move from this terrible place, fix what was broken. It was important to move, his mind fuzzy as he tries to tell himself that he must move and he shouldn’t stop for anything. Whispers tickle the back of his head, ants crawling through his skin and nipping at his nerves. Distractions, dragging him away from his mission. He gagged and struggles to make a sound, but that anguished noise burbled forth. Everything was wrong. It all turned out wrong. He thought of a name, wanted to cry out. “Come back.”

The window stands at the edge of the floor. He stumbles to it, legs of lead and mind dragging two feet behind on a heavy cord. It nagged at his brain as he fought to reach that window, the cord digging and pulling, refusing any small scrap of progress. He had to reach that window, he had to know. The ever present thumping curls in his perception, low and persistent. That damn noise! Here!

Extending below the window is the large front lawn, grass brown with fear, trees gnarled and broken yet their famished spindly limbs strive to reach toward the quarter moon framed above. The gravel path guides three colorful shapes illuminated by the fierce radiance of the lesser moon. “Hear me.”

None remain to listen to his desperate pleas. Who in their sane mind would? The trio made a beeline for the boxy vehicle left idle by the road, engine rumbling, engine crooning for its charges now that the influence of this place was broken.

This place.

Remorse and failure shred him, despair coiling into that cord knotted into his mind. His body was locked, only his failing sight could track the mad sprint of the group to the honey soaked vehicle. “Couldn’t…. ”

The van door is practically ripped open and each of the members dives in. There’s no pause, no hitch, before the van is screaming down the road and racing into the distant night. “Break.”

Gone. It was all for nothing, all lost. Spent. He fades and falls, diving down to that place that claimed his life, dragged by that heavy cord tied to his consciousness. It was like a rusted piece of barbed wire laced to his essence, or… a bramble, rooted into his soul. The subdued tempo kept vigil as the seconds ticked away, the walls dim and the haze clouded over his reflections. A little at a time he lost more of himself, wasted away to bones and cloth. The tapping hitched and paused then started up again, its irregular spams caught him.

He jerked out of the heavy cloud and sat up a bit. The world came into blurry focus, he had to blink hard several times to clear the glue in his eyes. Arthur winced and felt sick all over again, he leaned over on his side and pressed a hand to his ribs. It shouldn’t hurt like this, what was he doing last? A nightmare. A terrible dream. It was just a terrible dream.

Like always the blanket was pinned to his side, its loss permitted a fierce shiver to roll through his muscles. Arthur’s skin felt like ice, the intolerable cold did nothing but make his whole body ache; his shoulders trembled as he kicked out his feet and levered himself up by the passenger side door. It took a great deal of effort for Arthur to coordinate his muddled limbs under his weight and shift sideways, allowing him the clearance to see into the vans gloomy back. The moon was out, enough of its light glittered over the dashboard and slithered across the vans interior walls. Arthur’s voice is rough when he grunts, the exertion almost too much for his exhausted body. He wrapped one arm over the bench seat and hung that way, while he continued to massage his eyes with his fingers and cleared away remaining crud and tears.

In a pile of blankets and sleeping bag as per usual was Vivi, arms bundled tightly over the white fur of Mystery. If not for Mystery’s shimmering pelt, whatever tangle the two had managed to get into would be lost in the poor light. The pillow Vivi always tried to rest her head on was commandeered by the dog, and held between Mystery’s wrists as he lay on his side as the hound rested comfortably with his charge.

Arthur rests his chin on his shoulder. Everything was all right, they were safe. Nightmares, he reminds himself. His eyes stung again but he fought through the pain, his regret. It would all work out, somehow. Nothing would ever be the same… true, but they would find their way. Somehow.

The knotted hair on the back of his neck stood on end. That familiar twittering clicked in the back of his mind. No… it thudded. Pounded between his eardrums like his heart was ready to erupt. When he blinked, a pair of red eyes glared at him. He hadn’t heard Mystery move. Arthur couldn’t make out the bristled fur, but he could see the spectacles on the edge of the dog’s sharp snout and those eyes burned like fire. And growling. A low sound worked deep in Mystery’s throat, primal. The soft thumping hitched and tapped. Arthur felt the blood drain from his face, it somehow made him feel very warm despite how cold the night air was. He twisted around away from the passenger door and shoved himself back from the timid rapping.

In the window of the door was a gaunt and blackened fist, curled over and tapping at the glass. Gently, it dipped down and tapped at the window – tap-tap… tap-tap, and paused. It wasn’t malicious, it wasn’t forceful, it was far from demanding, but all of this made its plea infinitely more terrifying. The hand cocked up unfurling its fingers, its palm pressed close to the thin window that separated it from Arthur and it managed to glare into the van. Or mocked. That decapitated, dead limb was able to convey emotions.

It took a despairing amount of time for Arthur to accept what he was witnessing, and at the twilight of his epiphany he began shrieking. Gut wrenching, lung bursting shrills that had the capacity to rip through the vans roof. He would know his own arm anywhere.

Arthur was fighting, kicking at the blankets and struggling to find a place to hide deep in their frigid hold. He swung his arm out and hit the hard surface beside him, he shoved his legs out in some vain attempt to repel the grotesque thing that decided to call upon him. Light burned into his retinas, it seared right through his brain and lashed at his skin. It wasn’t long before Arthur was screeching with no remorse, at the same time he had all but forgotten completely what in hells name he was screaming about. He blinked through the tears and spots pulsing in his vision; he gagged as he coughed and his lungs shook with pain, he struggled to breathe and puke in the same gasp. He clawed out at nothing, blindly seeking to repel a broken marionette clothed in putrid flesh.

A blob of white was suddenly choking him. Arthur sobbed and grabbed at a fistful of fur and shoved his heels to the bed, braced to tear it clean off. A loud whine blasted through his ears, and Arthur feebly pawed at the fuzzy shoulder pressed into his face. His breath quivered, his eyes screwed shut as he moved his only arm at the trembling body now on top of him.

“M-Mystery?” he whimpered. Another whine, softer. Arthur tries to sniffle, his lungs itch and he begins hacking into the blanket beside his face. “A… it was a dream,” he mumbled. “No. It speaks.” Tears trail through the hot creases in his eyes and a small hiccup pops in his throat.

Take it easy. I’m here for you. Mystery pressed his muzzle to Arthur’s brow and licked his tears. You’re safe. He kept his arms locked around the shaking body and set his chin on Arthur’s chest. I’ve got you.

“I don’t want it… take me.” Arthur tightened his arm around Mystery and pressed his face into the dog’s neck. “Don’t let it. I-I couldn’t help it,” Arthur sobbed. Hot tears soaked into Mystery’s fur. “I didn’t… I promise.”

You were very brave. Mystery stretched his legs out away from Arthur and molded his body over his quivering charge. Sometimes, bravery isn’t enough.

Hours pass and Arthur hadn’t calmed in the slightest. He clings to Mystery mumbling about dreams and possession, constantly thanks Mystery for always being nearby. This is how it goes until early dawn when the watery contours of blue work their way through the heavy cloth of the curtain in the window. They frosty light mingles with the gold hue of the hot lamp on the bedside table. By then, Arthur has returned to his fitful sleep. Mystery keeps his paws pinned to Arthur and keeps his attention locked on the window, and the steady glow of the sunrise. That night he doesn’t need to bare his teeth, though he wished some nights it had been that simple.

#msa #mystery skulls animated #mystery skulls fanfic #mystery skulls ghost #msa fanfiction #mystery skulls fanfiction #lewis fanfiction #arthur fanfiction #mystery fanfiction #vivi fanfiction

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mhsn033 · 4 years

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70th Anniversary Grand Prix: Losing is something Lewis Hamilton cannot accept

The 70th Anniversary Colossal Prix is dwell on BBC Radio 5 Live from 14: 00 BST

The anguish of shedding oozed out of every section of Lewis Hamilton’s being after qualifying on the 70th Anniversary Colossal Prix.

Hamilton had been overwhelmed to pole situation by his Mercedes group-mate Valtteri Bottas by correct 0.063 seconds, the first time the Finn had headed the Briton on the grid for the reason that first flee of the season in the starting up up of ultimate month.

Afterwards, Hamilton’s answers in the put up-qualifying recordsdata conference were quick and to the level, as they so progressively are in these conditions.

“Valtteri did an unheard of job on the present time,” Hamilton stated. “He changed into as soon as correct a chunk of too swiftly for me. The first lap changed into as soon as rather first rate and the final lap wasn’t spectacular. In the end, he did a better job.”

Right here’s frequent Hamilton fare when he is second. It eats him up. Shedding is something he simply can no longer ranking.

It is occasionally delight in this that the starting up air world will get a activity of the indispensable dedication and pressure that, allied along with his skill, has pushed Hamilton forward to the level where he is nearby this season of becoming the most winning driver in the historical previous of the sport.

Hamilton is on 87 wins, correct four unnerved of Michael Schumacher’s all-time legend, which unless nowadays had felt impregnable. Nonetheless if he is to trail closer in Sunday’s flee, the second at Silverstone within every week, he’ll bear to dash Bottas first.

Right here’s never an effortless activity in a gaggle that tries to operate as rather as imaginable.

Bottas takes 70th Anniversary pole – full document

Pay consideration: Chequered Flag podcast particular with Lewis Hamilton

How qualifying for the 70th Anniversary GP unfolded

Unless he can dash Bottas on intention, a worldly build a take a look at to in vehicles of the same high-tail, Hamilton’s alternate choices are the originate up – and it’s onerous to gape him backing off in the kind Bottas did final weekend when the Finn bought a better originate up and changed into as soon as alongside Hamilton into the first corner – or to spend a take a look at out at something on strategy.

Nonetheless Mercedes has thus a long way been reluctant with Hamilton and Bottas to permit them to spend a take a look at out on the form of off-put strategy – taking assorted tyres at assorted times – that led to primary fights between Hamilton and Bottas’ predecessor Nico Rosberg corresponding to that at Bahrain in 2014. That competition created a toxic atmosphere in the group, which Mercedes would rather no longer repeat.

One factor to be a long way from, even supposing, is that Hamilton will strive to uncover a capacity, correct as he did when he qualified second in the raze twelve months’s British Colossal Prix.

“We aloof bear a prolonged flee,” he stated, “and I will attain all the pieces I’m in a position to to spend a take a look at out at and beat this guy.”

Bottas, meanwhile, is conscious of this is his opportunity to in the reduction of into the 30-level lead Hamilton opened out as a results of the dramatic halt to final week’s flee, when both Mercedes drivers suffered unhurried punctures.

“Indubitably mentally can bear to you are ranging from pole you’ll be ready to most productive intention to spend,” Bottas stated. “The high-tail is there. First job is to fetch off the line, and the mentality is strive to spend it. That’s it.”

Verstappen in the wild

Verstappen tweeted after qualifying: “Cannot recount I’m elated with P4, nonetheless starting on the onerous tyre compound might perchance fetch it a animated flee the next day.”

One minor surprise in qualifying changed into as soon as that Red Bull’s Max Verstappen changed into as soon as overwhelmed to his earlier school third situation in the aid of the Mercedes by Racing Point’s Nico Hulkenberg.

In the flee Verstappen might perchance successfully present the best hobby, starting up air the combat for the spend between the Mercedes drivers, no longer least for his resolution to originate up on the toughest tyre.

This name changed into as soon as suggested by a dash F1 has made in an strive to spice up the action for this second consecutive flee at Silverstone. Pirelli changed into as soon as requested to raise a tyre different for this flee one step softer than changed into as soon as provided for the British Colossal Prix final weekend.

Meaning that final weekend’s ‘onerous’ tyre – the favoured flee tyre for everybody – is no longer obtainable. This week’s onerous is final weekend’s medium, and this week’s ‘medium’ final week’s gentle, which everybody tried to steer a long way from for the flee.

On these softer tyres, everybody appears to be predicted to bear to fetch two pit stops, as a substitute of the considered one of ultimate week. Would possibly well even this raise Verstappen into play in the flee? He absolutely wasn’t going to predict he might perchance instruct the Mercedes.

“I felt strongly for that tyre,” Verstappen stated, “because we are already operating softer compounds so we can’t exhaust the onerous delight in final week. So I wanted to dash for the toughest likelihood we had.

“The gentle changed into as soon as falling apart so changed into as soon as no longer an likelihood. The medium changed into as soon as final week’s gentle and that changed into as soon as additionally no longer an unheard of tyre.

“This might perchance depend on about a issues – how my first lap goes to be and if there might be a security car. It felt delight in a pleasant tyre so as this is why I am going to present it a dash.”

Hulkenberg brings some pleasure to Racing Point

Hulkenberg (sharing a fist bump with aged Renault group-mate Daniel Ricciardo) is having a take a look at out to seal his first ever podium originate in System 1

Since the originate up of the season, it has been apparent Racing Point were difficult Red Bull for the second quickest car, nonetheless issues bear no longer come collectively for the group at any flee thus a long way.

Nonetheless on Saturday Nico Hulkenberg underlined what the auto that has been dubbed the ‘purple Mercedes’ in F1’s “copying” row is able to with a unheard of third on the grid.

The German, out of F1 for the reason that halt of ultimate season, is subbing for the second weekend in succession for Mexican Sergio Perez, who has coronavirus. And Hulkenberg has been by the mill a chunk of.

His return final weekend might perchance no longer had been extra final-minute. And after he failed to fetch even the originate up of the flee as a result of a mechanical instruct, Hulkenberg has had yet any other turbulent week because the group tried in pointless to fetch Perez support in the auto.

Hulkenberg has been working with Racing Point all week, making willing for the flee, nonetheless it changed into as soon as most productive when Perez failed a Covid-19 take a look at on Thursday evening that he knew he might perchance be support in the auto again this weekend.

Meanwhile, the group administration were underneath strain on two fronts.

Many were no longer impressed that they were pushing so onerous for Perez when, from a PR stand-level, given the efforts F1 has made to fetch the season underway amid the pandemic, they might had been better informed correct to commit to Hulkenberg for the two races.

On the identical time, they were mad by the autumn-out from Renault’s winning roar against their car, after the publication of the stewards’ ruling that they’d illegally copied Mercedes’ rear brake ducts.

On Saturday, Hulkenberg changed into as soon as a vision of aloof in the storm.

“I’m correct going with the circulation,” he stated. “We couldn’t take a look at too great final week. The high coming support Thursday, Friday after which Sunday the big low and now coming support, it has been a pretty wild week in a certain intention.

“Bodily, it has been tough. These vehicles are brutally snappily in the replace of route and no gym on the earth can put collectively you for that.”

Verstappen stated: “It clearly reveals the auto is terribly sturdy nonetheless additionally Nico did an unheard of job in qualifying.

“They did a extremely correct job over the cool climate nonetheless I essentially hope this is in a position to additionally back Nico for his seat for next twelve months because he positively deserves to be in F1. There are about a drivers who don’t appear to be as correct as him.”

Hulkenberg is most animated identified for preserving an unenviable F1 legend – that of the most races with out a podium originate. And it’s one he would essentially rather relinquish.

“I knew that will come up now,” he stated, after qualifying, when someone requested whether he might perchance eventually fetch the monkey off his support.

“To be correct, or no longer it’s very difficult and advanced conditions nonetheless I know I bear a snappily car beneath me. So or no longer it’s correct attempting to be clear that to attain all the pieces correct.

“Obviously or no longer it’s starting lap one. Or no longer it goes to be additionally contemporary for me nonetheless I mediate I will correct strive to fetch it correct along with your total ride that I bear after which we are going to flee. I’m a pair of races in the aid of the other guys nonetheless I aloof be conscious what it feels delight in.

“Exact strive no longer to mediate too great, defend my head down and bear a correct flee.”

Racing Point group indispensable Otmar Szafnauer stated after qualifying that they were hopeful Perez might perchance be support for next weekend’s Spanish Colossal Prix. So it is most likely to be Hulkenberg’s final likelihood.

In the previous, when he is been in a situation to destroy his duck, he has dropped the ball. And the final time that came about, in Germany final twelve months, changed into as soon as the moment that convinced Renault group boss Cyril Abiteboul that he might also aloof let him dash.

Can Hulkenberg eventually correct the legend, while putting himself firmly support on the agenda for a permanent pressure next twelve months?

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ilovejevsjeans · 5 years

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Dan on In the Pink 2019

Doesn’t watch the news. Finds it very negative and thinks starting the day like that isn’t good for you. Says his year -like the news- was very depressing.

There wasn’t one big thing that made him leave RB, but some little things. Said after Baku was weird.(Didn’t say more on that, sadly) Won’t say more about what went on behind the scenes. Says he’s entering a new part of his life. Lots of things changing. Felt it was the right time to make a big change and leave. Everything at Red Bull is under their conditions, wanted more freedom to do his thing.

Only recently learned what the word catalyst means. He thinks!

Nat says the guys in the team are devastated he’s leaving. And Christian was gutted.

Dan said he’s never gone back to an ex, once it’s, over its over!

Dan said it was nice to see how much everyone cared when he anounced he was leaving. To see how much he was appreciated. He knew it, but it was nice to be reminded it. He thinks he was often to nice. He was fully a part of the team so would often do things which in hindsight he shouldn’t have- like doing events the night before races. Says he will say no a bit more often now. He’s a yes man. Everyone sees him as smiley and bubbly so doesnt think he’d say no to doing things.

Off track he’s very indecisive. Can’t make decisons at all. He over thought his decision to leave, wanted to make sure 100% that he was making the right decision.

He has an Italian passport. (Always thought he did, but nice to have it confirmed)

Thinks it will still be Mercedes and Ferrari competing for the championship. Doesn’t think Seb or Lewis have the power to stop him from joining the team.

Nat says talking to Max after the announcement he was genuinely gutted Dan was leaving. Dan says their relationship was never like the videos that RB made. Alos says he was surprised how well their relationship worked. Says Max is very vocal and stubborn. Says their very alike in their determination to do their best and often pushed each other. Usually that creates a big division in teams. They were always able to move on from on track incidents. Although “at times he wanted to grab him”. Has no problem with Max beating him fair and square. Implies that Max is pretty immature, says he’ll get better as he matures.

Says stubbornness gets in the way of acknowledging that other drivers can beat you or that you weren’t as good as them which can then lead to excuses and then they start to create tension in the team over nothing. Stubbornness can backfire if you dont use it the right way.

I think the most interesting part for me was talking about how Max and his dad (Who’s Name Will Not Grace This Blog) were very vocal when things went wrong.Says in comparison to the Verstappens he was to nice. Says he needs an more of an attitude of saying no. Says this changed a bit this year. Says he doesnt care about being viewed as an arsehole because he never really is. (I think he’s saying a lot in these two parts without going into details)

Doesnt believe in the conspirace theories. Doesn’t see what the team got out of his car failing on purpose. Says the guys he worked with are some of the best he ever worked with. He had lots of problems in quali like Max had in Mexico but never felt the need to say so publically like Max. (There’s definitely more to this story but he won’t say it!!) Says you can’t always expect it to go perfectly and should accept this.Says he celebrated so much because it was the first nice thing in a while and he knew there was a chance that he’d have a failure on race day. He wanted to enjoy it while he could. He was the underdog. Said it was nice to show when the tension was on he could pull it out of the bag when no one was expecting it.

Says he was sure there was some people in the team who switched off towards him when he announced he was leaving.

Monaco was the greatest moment of his career. Seeing everyone on the boat when he got back after it had a huge effect on him. He’d never seen a sea of people so happy. Made him proud. Felt he’d done more than just win a race, says there was a lot behind it. Was such a massive reflief to win it after they had problems too.Jokes that if his car had broken down completly in Monaco he would have walked away. That he couldn’t lose it twice for reasons out of his control.

Now has a niece too! 😊

Looking forward to the sun (It was recorded before he went to Aus at the end of last year) Complains about the cold. Was tired and ready to switch off. There’s plenty of off track stuff that wore him out.

Says the year pretty much sucked! But isn’t bitter will learn and grow from it. Its a stepping stone to his championship.

#daniel ricciardo #natalie pinkham #dan #in the pink #podcasts

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bi-hargrove · 6 years

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Swelling Storm - Sweet Pea

in which sweet pea and his best friend are oblivious idiots who have heart eyes for each other

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Reader

Word Count: 6k

Warning(s): Strong language

Note: Title is from “Waves” by Dean Lewis. This is the first part of a (hopefully) three part series. If you would like to be tagged when the other parts are posted, let me know!

Part 2 (Into the Flood)

you had known sweet pea since you were both knobby-kneed first graders with wide eyes and more innocence than you knew what to do with. you met on the first day of school when mrs. conners suggested that the two of you worked together to build a block castle, and you had been attached at the hip ever since.

you had been there for each other through everything. sweet pea was there for you when your parents split up and your dad moved across the country, leaving you behind as nothing more than a distant memory as he started a whole new family. and you were sweet pea’s support system when his mom became sick. you were by his side during all of those long nights spent by her bedside in the hospital, through the visits with doctors who told him that her condition wasn’t getting any better, and you shed a river of tears with him when she succumbed to the cancer after months of fighting.

of course, you shared good times as well. sweet pea always cheered the loudest at your volleyball games. you supported and encouraged him during his induction into the southside serpents. you didn’t always agree with some of the mishaps that he got himself into, but you were always there to help him clean up all of his cuts and scrapes afterwards.

it was always “sweet pea and y/n”, one of you never seen without the other one close by.

but that was all about to change.

you both were nearing the end of your senior year at riverdale high. your plans following graduation were set; sweet pea had gotten early acceptance into the engineering program at purdue university and you had been accepted to university of washington to study english. you were literally moving in two completely different directions and, honestly, it scared the shit out of you.

the realization had fully hit you when you had gotten your acceptance letter. you were scared of losing the bond that you had formed with your best friend of over a decade. and then, because apparently this was a time of all kinds of realizations, it dawned on you that you viewed sweet pea as more than just a friend.

when you burst into the whyte wyrm one thursday afternoon after school with a panicked look on your face and without sweet pea at your side, toni sensed something was wrong and told you to spill. after a bit of a struggle on your end, you managed to get your confession out.

“i...i think, god i can’t believe this - jesus...i think i...love sweet pea.”

toni giggled and grinned at you. “i know you love sweet pea. everyone has known that for ages,” she said, shocking you. “well, everyone except for SP. he’s just as oblivious as you are.”

fangs overheard toni and jumped into the conversation.

“he totally is! he hasn’t realized it yet, but he’s head over heels in love with you too.”

armed with the knowledge that you loved your best friend and he loved you back, you should have done something to make that change in your relationship. but you did what you did best; you overthought. you worried about what would happen to your friendship if you and sweet pea tried dating and it didn’t work out. and then you realized that you were getting ahead of yourself with that worry. you couldn’t be completely sure that he felt the same way that you did. maybe fangs and toni misread things and sweet pea didn’t see you as more than a best friend. so, you decided to not say anything to him about how you felt. being best friends would just have to be enough because you didn’t want to risk losing that relationship.

“y/n!”

you turned your attention from the contents of your messy locker to glance over your shoulder. sweet pea was about halfway down the hallway, but was quickly making his way toward you, your fellow classmates making sure to step aside to let him pass. because you had known him since he was a quiet, gap-toothed six year old who had an unhealthy obsession with bambi the deer, you often forgot that sweet pea was feared by most people because of his imposing height and quick temper.

you zipped up your backpack and turned back around to slam your locker shut. as you shouldered your bag, a pair of arms wrapped around your waist and lifted you up from the ground.

“pea, no!” you squealed as a smile broke across your face. “put me down!”

his chest rumbled with laughter as he swung you around a final time before allowing your feet to touch the ground again. he swung his arm over your shoulders as you both moved to join the crowd in the middle of the hall, heading toward the classroom where your honors english class was held.

“so how did your science test go?” you asked, peering up at him.

his face scrunched up. “mr. thomas is trying to kill us, i swear. the test was seventy-five questions,” he complained as he rolled his eyes. “but i think i did okay. thanks to you, of course. what would i do without my genius best friend?”

he grinned down at you and you felt your heartbeat speed up.

“please, i barely did anything. i just helped you go over your notes, which you already knew backwards and forwards,” you reminded him. “you doing well on that test is all you, sweets. you’re a beast when it comes to physics.”

the smile on his face grew at your compliment and he pulled you even closer. you melted into his embrace as the two of you continued through the halls.

when you reached the cafeteria, you noticed a poster reminding everyone that prom tickets were to go on sale at the beginning of the following week. before you could stop yourself, you let out a quiet sigh as you tore your gaze from the poster.

you wanted to go to prom, really badly. and you wanted to go with sweet pea. but you knew that he would never be down to dress up and take you to some silly school dance. that just wasn’t something that you two did. but still, you had come up with daydreams of him showing up at your house with a corsage in hand to whisk you off to the country club so that the two of you could dance the night away, surrounded by all of your classmates. it was ridiculous, but a girl could dream.

a few minutes later, you and sweet pea reached your classroom. his arm dropped from your shoulder and you readjusted the straps of your backpack before you turned to head into the room. but before you could get far, sweet pea gripped your arm and pulled you back.

your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you watched him scratch at the back of his neck with the hand that wasn’t holding on to you. he stared down at his boots as he mumbled something that you couldn’t quite catch.

“what did you say, pea? i couldn’t hear you.”

he looked up from his boots and his dark eyes caught yours. “i said...i know that prom is really lame, but i saw you looking at the poster and i was wondering if, uh, well...i was wondering if you wanted to go. with me.”

your heart pounded in your chest and your stomach flipped as it hit you that sweet pea had just made your little daydreams a reality.

“i’d love to, sweets,” you said, trying your damnedest to keep your composure. “there’s no one else that i’d rather go with.”

you knew the many faces of your best friend. you were familiar with the threatening scowl that he pulled when someone pissed him off. the face full of heartbreak after he found out that stacy westall cheated on him with another guy was something that haunted you. you spent all of last semester giggling over the look of pure boredom mixed with a dash of annoyance caused by ms. rivard’s long-winded history lectures. and the carefree beam full of unadulterated happiness, which was becoming increasingly rare these days, was something that could turn even your shittiest days around.

but the shy grin that spread across sweet pea’s face after you accepted his invitation to prom was an expression that you had never seen before. but god, did you want to see it for every moment for the rest of your life.

the two of you stood in the middle of the hallway, staring at each other and grinning until mrs. fenmore cleared her throat loudly from the doorway of the classroom. you were broken from your trance and whipped around to face your english teacher.

“class is starting, miss y/l/n. say goodbye to your boyfriend,” she teased before winking. “sweet pea, get to class.”

a hot blush spread across your cheeks as you stuttered a farewell to sweet pea before dashing into the classroom. you could hear mrs. fenmore chuckling as she pulled the door closed.

you paced the length of the living room for the umpteenth time as your mom sighed and mumbled something about wearing a hole in her rug under her breath.

“honey, he’ll be here soon,” she assured you, glancing up from her phone. “you told him to get here at six. it’s only quarter of.”

you stopped your pacing to shoot a frustrated look at her. “i know, but still...” you trailed off, not even knowing what you were so worked up about.

“is something wrong? you seem so nervous. it’s just pea.”

you hadn’t told your mom about your realization. other than toni and fangs, you hadn’t told anyone about it. the more people that you talked about it with, the more real it became and you weren’t ready for it to become real.

“it’s nothing, mom, i just don’t want him to be late,” you lied.

to avoid more questions from your mom, you moved to the front hallway of the house to continue your pacing. a few more minutes passed before there was a knock at the door. your mom rushed in from the living room and practically hip checked you out of the way so that she could open the door. when she did, the deep breath that you had taken got caught in your throat and you sputtered a bit.

you were not blind and long before you realized your true feelings for your best friend, you had noticed that he was an attractive person. the stares he received from girls that you caught whenever you two were out together further proved that point. there was no doubt about it; sweet pea was hot.

but the way he looked standing in your doorway with that same shy smile from before on his face and your corsage in his hand was a whole new level of gorgeous. when he asked you to prom, you didn’t expect sweet pea to dress up in some fancy tux because that just wasn’t his style. the outfit that he came up with instead was the perfect compromise. he was wearing his standard tight black jeans and boots, along with his leather serpents jacket, but he swapped the usual t-shirt and flannel for a crisp white button up and a deep red tie that matched the color of your dress perfectly.

your heart swelled as you stared at your best friend. he was so breathtaking that you wanted to cry.

“pea, you look so handsome!” your mom cooed while motioning for him to step inside.

sweet pea leaned down to wrap his arms around her in a hug. “thank you, mama,” he murmured, a slight blush dusting his cheeks.

after he released your mom from his grip, sweet pea took his first proper look at you. the redness in his cheeks deepened and the smile on his face grew.

“you look good, y/l/n,” he complimented as he reached for your hand and pulled you into his arms.

“thanks, sweets,” you mumbled. “i’m sure you already know how great you look.”

he chuckled. “i may have gotten some second glances on my way over here.”

you gripped his impressively thick forearms and took a step back to give him an exaggerated once over from the top of his neatly combed hair to the bottom of his scuffed boots, letting out a low whistle.

“there’s another one to add to the list,” you told him before bursting into a fit of giggles.

(you missed it because your eyes were closed, but your mom later told you that sweet pea had looked at you “like you put the stars in the sky” as you laughed.)

“c’mere so i can give you your corsage, you goof,” sweet pea ordered, grabbing for your hand.

he opened the small cardboard box that housed the corsage and reached in carefully to pull out the small bouquet. when your mom saw it, she let out a quiet gasp.

it was made of beautiful white flowers and you couldn’t believe that sweet pea had gone through the trouble of getting you such a nice corsage.

you held your left hand out for sweet pea and he slipped the corsage around your wrist.

“oh pea...” your mom murmured, sounding like she was close to tears. “it’s gorgeous.”

you glanced up from studying the flowers on your wrist to see sweet pea rubbing at the back of his neck and looking sheepish.

“it’s not that big of a deal. just some flowers,” he insisted.

your mom shot him a dubious look and you knew that something was up. but before you could raise any questions, your mom clapped her hands together and announced that it was time for pictures.

you took a few of the traditional pre-prom pictures, with you standing in front of sweet pea while he gingerly wrapped his arms around your waist. your mom continuously gushed over how cute the two of you looked.

after a few more pictures, you got tired of the cliche poses that your mom was directing you into. you dropped into a squatting position and clasped your hands in the prayer position in front of your face, while sweet pea stood behind you with his arms crossed over his chest and a menacing glower on his face.

“oh, for god’s sake... are you two serious?” your mom grumbled and rolled her eyes.

“just take the picture, mom!” you whined. “we wanna look cool.”

“i can tell you right now that’s not the way to do it,” she shot back, but took the picture anyway.

you reached your hand out to sweet pea and he grasped it before helping you back up to a standing position. he loosely wrapped his arms around your waist as you faced him and you placed your hands on his forearms once again. you looked up at him with a small smile on your face and he grinned down at you, his nose scrunched up from how big his smile was.

god, he was cute.

“y/n, can i talk to you out here for a sec?” your mom asked, waving you into the front hallway.

you exchanged confused looks with sweet pea before you followed your mom. once you were out of sweet pea’s view, your mom latched onto your arms and started whispering excitedly.

“do you know what kind of flowers those are in your corsage?”

you shook your head.

“those are chrysanthemums. white ones traditionally symbolize devoted love and loyalty.”

you furrowed your brows and shrugged your shoulders. “okay? i’m sure pea didn’t know all of that when he bought them. he probably just figured they would go with my dress,” you said, not understanding why your mom was freaking out.

“oh no, he knew what they meant when he bought them, honey,” she insisted. “trust me.”

she looked at you knowingly and you stared back at her like she was crazy.

“mom, i can assure you that sweet pea didn’t look into the symbolism of flowers when picking out which ones to get for my corsage,” you said slowly, enunciating each word so that they reached her all the way up in lala land. “trust me.”

you patted her arm a few times before you turned to go back into the living room.

“alright, sweets, shall we get this show on the road?”

surprisingly, riverdale high’s prom exceeded your expectations. not that you were expecting much, but you hadn’t anticipated that they would go all out.

fundraisers had been done by all of the sports teams and clubs in order to raise the funds to rent out the riverdale country club for the evening. the prom planning committee had decided on a great gatsby themed dance. the theme had certainly been done before, but they managed to put their own unique spin on it. the decorations were well thought out and didn’t scream ‘high school dance’ and the music was actually enjoyable, thanks to the dj and live band combo that had been hired. and thankfully, the food was good, seeing as the committee had opted to do a meal of a variety of finger foods and snacks, rather than the usual dry chicken dinner.

all in all, prom was a success and you figured that the fact that veronica lodge and betty cooper were co-heads of the planning committee had everything to do with that. once those two girls put their minds to something, they did it right.

“c’mon, pea, dance with me!” you pleaded as you pulled at your date’s arm.

he glanced up at you from his seated position at the table that you were sharing with fangs and his sort-of boyfriend, callum harrington, along with toni and cheryl blossom.

“it’ll be a cold day in hell before that happens,” he deadpanned as he popped a finger sandwich into his mouth. “i don’t dance and you know that.”

fangs chuckled. “remember that one time in middle school-“

sweet pea shot fangs a withering look that shut the smaller boy up instantly before turning his attention back to you.

“go dance with blossom,” he suggested as he pointed toward the redhead who was in the middle of doing some complicated looking routine for the small crowd that had surrounded her. “she looks like she knows what she’s doing.”

you tugged on his arm again and pouted your lips. “i don’t want to dance with someone who knows what they’re doing. i want to dance with you,” you whined.

your sly dig was not lost on sweet pea. he glared at you and opened his mouth to snap a counter jab back, but you cut him off with a loud gasp as a song that was very familiar to you began playing.

as soon as sweet pea recognized sir sly’s “high” he sighed loudly. it was one of your favorite songs and there was no way that he was going to get out of dancing with you now.

“well, i hope the devil has a jacket because it’s about to be chilly in hell,” you announced and grabbed sweet pea’s hand. “let’s go, sweets!”

you weaved through your classmates until you found a good spot on the outskirts of the dance floor.

something that you and sweet pea had in common was that neither of you could dance. the difference between the two of you was that you didn’t let that stop you from dancing, while your best friend wouldn’t even allow himself to tap his foot along to a song.

so when you started bopping around and singing along, while sweet pea stood frozen in his spot, you weren’t surprised.

“you’ll enjoy this experience a lot more if you dance instead of standing there like a skyscraper,” you teased as you danced around his stiff body.

“too bad i don’t dance.”

“it’s not as scary as you’re making it out to be,” you assured him as you reached for both of his hands. surprisingly, he didn’t fight you and let you lace your fingers through his. “besides, no one is even looking at us to see you dancing. just let loose a bit, pea.”

you did a little shimmy, then lifted sweet pea’s arms and guided him into doing a semi-shimmy of his own. you continued prodding him to loosen up and try some more dance moves. by the second chorus, he was kind of dancing. granted, his moves weren’t all that great, but he was relaxed and appeared to be enjoying himself.

when the next song began, he surprisingly didn’t try to rush off the dance floor. he continued to sway around to the pounding bass, a grin threatening to take over his face.

“told you you’d have more fun if you danced,” you boasted as you did a little twirl around him.

“try not to sound so smug, babe.”

you rolled your eyes and stuck your tongue out at him.

the two of you continued to dance for a few more songs, sweet pea becoming more comfortable with each passing song. but when a slow song came on, you both decided to call it quits and head back to your table. you were the only ones there, but you still ended up sharing a seat, as you curled up on sweet pea’s lap. you watched everyone out on the dance floor and made comments here and there, while sweet pea continued to chow down on finger sandwiches and mini cupcakes.

after a while, you began to grow bored. you felt like you had gone through enough of the prom experience to be satisfied. your daydreams of dancing with sweet pea had become a reality and that’s all you could have asked for.

“do you want to head out of here?” you asked, craning your neck to glance at sweet pea. “i’m getting kinda tired.”

he was in the middle of chewing, so he nodded his head until he was done. “yeah, we can leave if you want,” he mumbled.

you got down from his lap and smoothed out the skirt of your dress while you waited for him to pull his serpents jacket on. once he had, he reached for your hand and laced your fingers together.

“we should let the others know that we’re leaving,” you suggested.

“i’ll text fangs and tell him to let everyone else know,” sweet pea said as he slipped his phone out of his jacket pocket. “hold on a sec.”

you watched him out of the corner of your eye while he shot off a text to his other best friend. over the course of the night, his hair had become tousled and he even had that one little curl hanging in his eyes that you were especially fond of. you always teased him and said that it made him look like a ‘50s greaser, but you secretly thought it was hot as hell.

“why are you staring?” he asked, jolting you from your thirsty thoughts. “do i have something on my face?”

you shook your head as you felt your cheeks go red. “it’s nothing. let’s just go,” you mumbled and tugged on his hand.

the two of you headed out of the country club and to sweet pea’s motorcycle. he handed you your helmet and you strapped it on before climbing onto his harley and wrapping your arms around his midsection.

when sweet pea first got his motorcycle, you had refused to ride it. motorcycles had always scared you and you weren’t too crazy about sweet pea riding one either. you had heard too many stories of people getting into terrible accidents and you didn’t want your best friend to become one of those people. but with time and a lot of convincing from sweet pea, you finally gave in and let him take you on a short ride. you had clung to him for dear life and kept your eyes squeezed shut the whole time, but it wasn’t as scary as you had originally thought it was going to be. after many more rides, you finally got over your fear of motorcycles. in fact, most of the time that sweet pea was seen riding around town now, you were sitting behind him with your arms around him.

as the two of you rode through the empty streets of riverdale, you turned your head to rest your cheek on the soft leather of sweet pea’s jacket. once you had gotten over your initial fear of riding on a motorcycle, you realized how enjoyable it actually was. there was something about zipping down roads and watching everything pass you by in a blur. it was ten times better late at night when there was barely anyone else on the road and there was that certain stillness that late night hours brought. you would never admit it to sweet pea because he would just gloat about being right, but you had come to love riding around on his harley.

soon, you crossed over from the northside of riverdale to the southside, which both you and sweet pea called home. it broke your heart that in just a few months, both of you would be leaving the town that you had grown up in. sure, you were leaving to start the next exciting chapter of your lives, but even that fact didn’t help stop the ache.

sweet pea turned in onto your street and slowed as your house came into view. you and your mom lived in a small ranch style house in the nicer part of the southside. you had lived in the house for your whole life, as your parents bought it three months before you were born. that house held so many memories for you and you knew that it was going to be hard to leave it behind.

sweet pea pulled into the driveway and cut the engine. you took off your helmet, then dismounted the bike. over the course of your ride home, your mood had taken a complete 180. you got caught up in thinking about leaving your friends, family, and hometown behind, and it put you in an awful mood. you just wanted to crawl into bed and try to turn your thoughts off for a little while.

you started to head for your house, but sweet pea grabbed your hand and pulled you back. “you’re not even gonna say bye?” he accused, his tone light and teasing.

but when you turned back around and he saw the look on your face, he put all his jokes aside.

“y/n, what’s up?”

you rubbed your free hand over your tired eyes, quickly wiping away the tears that were starting to leak out of the corners.

“nothing,” you mumbled, your voice wobbling. “i’m just tired.”

“bullshit. you’re lying to me.”

your mouth dropped open when you heard the harsh tone that sweet pea was using with you. when you uncovered your eyes, you caught the way that he was glaring at you. he had never looked at you with so much malice in the entire time that you had known him.

“why are you so angry all of the sudden?” you asked, not particularly liking the way he was looking at you.

“why are you being so secretive all of the sudden?” he shot back. “you’ve been keeping something from me for weeks. you’re always whispering about shit with toni and fangs, but as soon as i show up, you all stop. i know that something’s up.”

ever since you had told toni about your feelings for sweet pea, she and fangs had been pushing you to say something to him. you had gotten into countless arguments about it over the past few weeks. and sweet pea always seemed to show up right in the middle of these arguments. you could understand how he thought that something was going on behind his back, but, still, you didn’t appreciate him coming at you about it in such an aggressive manner all of the sudden. you were tired and sad, and you didn’t want to get into it with him right now.

you crossed your arms over your chest. “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lied, looking at the space above sweet pea’s head.

he let out a growl and smacked his hand down on his bike. “are you fucking serious right now, y/n? since when do we lie to each other?” he asked.

you stayed silent as you continued to stare right above his head. you knew that if you looked at him, you would break.

“so you’re just not going to say anything?”

you bit down on your bottom lip and closed your eyes as you hugged yourself tighter.

“i swear, if you don’t say something in the next thirty seconds, i’m leaving,” sweet pea threatened. “i mean it, y/n. i’ll leave.”

your eyes snapped back open and you finally looked at sweet pea. he had a scowl on his face and a dark look in his eyes.

this wasn’t the sweet pea that you knew and loved. before you was the sweet pea that people feared; the one with a quick temper and a brass knuckle in his pocket. you had been present before when something switched in him and his rage got the best of him. in fact, you were no stranger to it, but it had never been directed at you. sweet pea was always so kind to you and he had promised you so many times before that he would never become that turbulent person with you.

“i don’t want to talk about it right now, christopher,” you snapped as you felt your frustration bubble up within you.

sweet pea’s eyebrows quirked at your use of his birth name, but the look of surprise quickly passed and the grimace returned to his face.

“no, we’re talking about it now. i’ve been patient with you. i’ve waited weeks for you to tell me what’s going on.”

you threw your hands up in frustration. “why do i have to tell you what’s going on? why are you so worried about it?” you asked, your voice becoming shrill.

“because we’re best friends and that’s what we’ve always done!” he yelled, his temper finally getting the best of him. he rose up from his motorcycle and stepped toward you. “it kills me that you don’t feel like you can come to me for help anymore. i’m supposed to be able to protect you!”

“get used to it, pea. you’re not going to be able to protect me from the big bad world if you’re halfway across the country from me!”

he drew back as though you had slapped him across his face.

“you’re fucking unbelievable, y/n,” he spat as he moved closer to tower over you, using his height as an intimidation factor. it was a tactic you had seen him use hundreds of times before with other people, but never did you think that he would do the same to you. “i knew it! i knew you weren’t happy for me when you found out i was going to purdue. you’re jealous!”

you reached out and shoved him away from you. he stumbled backward, but you continued to come at him, pushing him and slapping his chest.

“fuck you! fuck you for even thinking that,” you screamed. “i am so incredibly proud of you for getting accepted and you know that!”

he scoffed as he looked at you indignantly. “oh yeah, then what’s your problem?” he asked.

“my problem is that i’m terrified of losing you!”

you gave him a final shove before you turned and stormed up the driveway toward your house. never in the twelve years that you had known sweet pea had he ever made you as mad as you were in that moment. the fact that he could even think that you wanted anything less than the best for him made your blood boil.

you made it to the steps of the front porch before you realized what you had said to him before you stomped off.

shit.

you turned back around slowly to find him frozen in the middle of your driveway.

“pea...”

“we’ve been best friends for how long and you really think we’re just going to stop because of where we’re going to school?” he asked, his voice quiet. “c’mon, we’re better than that and you know it, y/n.”

your throat tightened as you felt more tears spring to your eyes. “how can you be so sure though? things happen, people grow apart,” you murmured.

“not us. we’ve been through too much shit together.” sweet pea pulled you into his arms. “i’m going to be sappy for a minute. if you tell anyone, i will deny it until i go to my grave. you and me are for life, y/n. like, ride or die type shit. we’re gonna grow old together, okay? you’re my favorite person in this whole world and i’m never going to let you go. i promise. and you know that i don’t break promises.”

you were full-on sobbing by the end of sweet pea’s speech. you clutched to the back of his serpents jacket tightly as you cried into the front of his shirt. he didn’t voice a single complaint and just held onto you while you cried.

the future still scared the crap out of you and there was still that nagging thought in the back of your head that you and sweet pea’s relationship was going to change once you started college. but sweet pea’s words did help alleviate your worries for right now.

obviously, the two of you were extremely close, but you had noticed a change in sweet pea over the past few years. the boy who used to live up to his nickname had hardened as he began to face the harsh realities of life head on. he became angrier and started to close himself off from most of those around him. not that you blamed him; between losing his mom and the whole situation that went down with his dad, you understood why sweet pea had put up his armor. a person could only take so much pain before it became too much, especially for someone so young.

but still, he didn’t talk about his feelings with you very often. of course, you knew that he cared about you. he made that much obvious with the way that he watched over you and was always there for you when you needed him to be. but you had no idea that he intended to be there for you like that forever. you didn’t realize that he considered you his ride or die.

there was a feeling in your gut that told you that you should tell him about the feelings that you harbored for him. he deserved to know that much.

but as you lifted your head from his chest and looked into his eyes, you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. you didn’t want to cause a strain on your relationship. this kind of friendship was a once in a lifetime deal and you didn’t want to mess it up. telling him about your feelings would only scare him and then your fears could very well become reality. and you didn’t think that you could handle that.

“i don’t know what i did to deserve you, but i’m so glad i have you, sweets,” you mumbled as you wiped under your eyes.

“you’ll always have me,” sweet pea said, his voice earnest. “don’t ever forget that.”

you wrapped your arms back around him for one more bone-crushing hug before you stepped back.

“spend the night?” you asked as you reached your hand out toward him.

he nodded and took your hand in his and laced your fingers together before the two of you headed up the driveway and into your house.

#sweet pea #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea one shot #riverdale imagine #riverdale one shot #sweet pea x reader imagine #sweet pea x reader one shot #sweet pea fanfic #riverdale fanfic #my writing

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